


Finding Home

by kazural



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is not having it, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Injury, F/M, Gang Violence, Keith is a homeless delinquent, Lotor is a manipulative asshole, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazural/pseuds/kazural
Summary: She crawled out of the car and into the night air, shivering as a frigid breeze threw her skirt about her bare legs. After making sure that she had all of her belongings, she kicked the car door shut, her heel leaving a respectable dent in the side of his brand new Aston Martin.After Lotor wrongly accuses Allura of cheating on him, he leaves her stranded in the worst part of town in the middle of the night. When a group of thieves try to mug her, a boy with a worn leather jacket, dark hair, and even darker eyes helps her fight them off. Romance ensues.





	1. Stranded in Fairbanks

“Get out.” Lotor snarled the words through clenched teeth. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers trembling with the force. Swallowing down the unease creeping up inside her, Allura refused to move an inch. 

“No,” she said, without even glancing his way. “Take me home.” She observed the dimly lit street in front of Lotor’s parked car through the windshield, hoping that she projected the flippancy she so desperately wanted to. Her very recent ex-boyfriend revved the engine loud enough to wake any residents sleeping in the crumbling apartment buildings lining the street. 

“Out,” he said. After receiving only silence from her, he raised a fist and smashed it against the steering wheel. Her heart started beating a little faster, but there was no way she was letting him kick her out of his car to make her walk twenty miles across town, especially for nothing. 

“I didn't cheat on you,” she said, for what seemed like the hundredth time. Reasoning with him hadn’t worked in the restaurant. His temper tantrum had been so insane that even offering a substantial wad of cash while informing the manager of his last name hadn’t stopped them from getting kicked out. 

Finally, she chanced looking at him. His usually gorgeous, composed face was contorted in rage, and strands of his light hair were sticking up out of his slicked-back ponytail from all the times he had run his fingers through it. For the first time in her entire existence, Allura thought he looked ugly. Then, as he narrowed his eyes and curled his lips back, she was repulsed. 

“Just admit it, princess." She grimaced at the nickname he had given her so long ago being used with such resentment. “All I want from you is the truth. We’ve always trusted each other.” There was no use in trying to convince him again. Allura didn’t know who had told him that she had a one-night stand with a random guy at Club Exo last Friday night, but if she ever caught the liar, she would have to try very, very hard not to punch their teeth out. 

“If we’re supposed to trust each other,” she said, irritation clear in each clipped syllable she uttered, “then why aren’t you trusting me when I tell you that I didn’t cheat on you?”

“Because I know you’re lying!” he yelled, flecks of spit hitting her face. A vein was throbbing in his forehead, indicating that he was beyond any type of rational argument. “You won’t fuck me, but you’ll fuck some asshole that you’ve only known for an hour?”

“Just take me home, Lotor.” She picked a piece of invisible lint from her blouse, faking confidence. Inside though, her heart was battering against her chest. In all of the years they had known each other, he had never been so angry at her. She hadn’t even realized that he was capable of it. “We can talk tomorrow, when you’ve calmed down.” 

“Calm?” He laughed hysterically, throwing his head back and banging his palms against the steering wheel. Jerking to a stop, he turned to her with a dead expression and even deader eyes. “Get out or I might hurt you,” he stated, as if they hadn’t trained together under the same martial arts teacher since they were five, as if she didn’t pin him to the mat nine fights out of ten, as if she hadn’t put that slight bump in his nose when she broke it during one particularly violent contest. 

_Pick your battles_ , her father had always told her. Whether in the corporate world or in a fistfight, winning didn’t matter if you came out worse than you were before you decided to take on your opponent. And right now, the seatbelt buckled across her chest constrained any movement she might make. Lotor knew it. He hadn’t even bothered to put his on when they ripped out of the restaurant parking lot. 

“Don’t ever talk to me again,” she threatened. He grunted noncommittally. With one hand she opened the car door, and with the other she clicked the seatbelt free. She crawled out of the car and into the night air, shivering as a frigid breeze threw her skirt about her bare legs. After making sure that she had all of her belongings, she kicked the car door shut, her heel leaving a respectable dent in the side of his brand new Aston Martin. 

Before she could do it again, he peeled away from the curb, thunder seeming to follow in his wake as he accelerated. When he was long gone, Allura surveyed either side of the street, barely able to see anything thanks to the dying streetlights. A long row stretched out in front of her, but most of their bulbs had burnt out long ago, and the ones that actually worked were one step above useless, only casting a faint, orange light directly onto the sidewalk below. 

She tucked a strand of her thick hair behind her ear and clenched her hands into fists. Lotor had stranded her in the worst part of town in the middle of the night. Fairbanks had been a wealthy neighbourhood fifty years ago, filled with well-paid factory workers and their families. But as the factories left, so did the money. As the money left, so did the dreams. Now, Fairbanks was the most dangerous area in Altea, responsible for the highest consecutive annual crime rates in the city’s long history. In hindsight, she wondered if Lotor had brought her here on purpose.

Bugs fluttered around the streetlight above her head, bumping into the glass on repeat. There wasn’t much time for her to reflect on the past two hours, but she did anyways, finding that she wasn’t even sad at the abrupt end of her four-year relationship. That was strange, but she didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she was furious. Imagining wrapping her fingers around Lotor’s throat and squeezing made her smile.

Sounds came to her slowly as she surveyed the old buildings flanking the street. Raucous laughter came from somewhere. A baby cried in one of the apartments above. 

Fairbanks was a miserable hovel of dilapidated, brick buildings crammed beside each other. Neon lights flickered, and most signs were missing letters. Broken windows were patched up with plywood and green tarps. Paint was peeling from almost every surface anyone had bothered to put it on. 

Allura pulled out her phone and scrolled to her father’s number. If he couldn’t pick her up himself, he would send Coran. But she knew how they would react if they discovered that Lotor had abandoned her on some back street. The talks regarding the Balmera acquisition were going well, and Galra Security was an important part of that. Besides, Zarkon and her father were close friends. She wouldn’t let Lotor ruin everything just because he was being an asshole. 

Sighing, she turned off her GPS, then tucked her phone back into her purse. If there was even a slim chance her father could find out where she was, she wouldn’t take it. All she had to do was find out what street she was on, and then she would call a taxi. The moon was hidden by dark clouds as she started walking, cursing Lotor with every step she took. 

The cool air raised goose bumps on her brown skin as she stalked down the sidewalk, stepping over gaping cracks and untamed weeds. She kicked a pebble, scraping the red sole of her Louboutins and not caring. Her blouse was made of white silk and each tiny breeze slipped right through the threads, chilling her to the bone. The floral skirt that she wore ended above her knees, just as impractical for a midnight stroll. 

She could see the end of the street in the distance. The sign taunted her, still too far away for her to read. When loud, masculine voices burst out of the alleyway ten paces in front of her, she froze. Time to cross the street, she decided. _Pick your battles_. 

Her heels sounded as loud as a ringing bell as they beat on the asphalt. The voices echoed down the street now, getting ever closer. She kept her gaze locked in front of her. 

“Hey, girly!” a man shouted. Ignoring him, she increased her pace. Her toes were starting to ache, but she would rather not risk stepping on glass shards and whatever else littered the sidewalk with her bare feet. 

“I’m talking to you,” the man said again. Footsteps pounded to her right. Calming herself, she took deep breaths and glanced over to where the voice had come from. A group of six rough-looking men were heading towards her, chuckling among themselves. 

The lead thug smiled, showcasing rotten teeth. He dropped the cigarette he had been holding in one hand and took a swig from the beer bottle he held in the other. “Wait for us,” he slurred, letting the empty bottle drop to the ground in a clatter. 

“Back off!” She yelled as loud as she could. In her martial arts classes, that was the first thing her teacher had taught her to do when a situation such as this arose. Violence was to be avoided as much as possible. 

The group briefly stalled in shock, but it didn’t deter them. Allura’s heart fluttered as she kicked off her heels. The second thing her teacher had taught her was to run. For an impulsive moment, she considered getting into a fight. Rage was still coiling in her, waiting to be released. At home, her punching bag would do the job, but it was tempting to have her fists connect with actual flesh. 

But six was too many. The rational side of her was very aware of that fact. So she left her shoes and booked it down the pavement, followed by jeers. As she pulled away from them, she almost smiled. Until another thug stepped out of an alley and stood in front of her with a wide grin and open arms. 

Skidding to a stop, she stripped some skin from the bottom of her feet and winced. The men had chased her and fanned out to form a semi-circle. There was nowhere she could escape, no space left to dash between. As they approached, she backed into the brick wall, leaving no room for an attack from behind. 

Adrenaline set her heart racing as she assessed each of her opponents. They all moved with the unsettling sway of drunkards, but they weren’t skinny teenagers. Light wrinkles and stubble lined most of their faces; their clothes were torn, and cheap-looking tattoos adorned their arms. One even had a tattooed snake curling from his chest and up his neck to his forehead.

_Pick your battles_. Fear was thrumming through her, and for good reason. She was almost running out of choices. 

“Yes, I have cash,” she said, anticipating their intentions and unclasping her purse. “You can have it all.” The lead thug seemed to be considering it, until his eyes latched onto the watch encircling her wrist. 

“And the watch,” he ordered. The thick, gold band gleamed in the low light, the diamonds set into the crystal face glittering. 

“No,” she said. “I have three hundred dollars in here.” She rattled her purse. “I’ll give it to you.” The leader shook his head in disappointment. 

“You don’t give us the watch, we take it.” He leered, smacking a fist into his palm. “A rich bitch like you can afford to buy another one.”

If she could have, she would have given it up in a second. But they would have to pry the watch off her unconscious wrist if they wanted to even touch it. The watch was the first gift her father had given her mother when they started dating. 

“No,” she repeated, standing her ground. The leader reached for her first. She sidestepped his arm and jabbed a fist into his kidney. He collapsed to the sidewalk, crying out in pain. 

Confidence fuelled each of her movements as two more thugs rushed at her. She dodged the first one’s swing and used the momentum to carry her knee in between the other one’s legs. He stumbled and vomited. 

Two down, five to go. Still too many. Allura made a break through the gap she had created, swinging her purse at another man’s head and sending him reeling backwards from the blow. Open space called to her. She lunged for it. 

A meaty hand clamped down on her left forearm. She was thrown backwards, even as she tried to plant her feet on the ground and resist. The back of her head cracked against the wall. Dazed, she managed to stay on her feet, but the world started to spin. 

“Leave me alone,” she said. Her head was fuzzy, white spots flashing in and out of her vision. Fingers fumbled against her wrist, trying to pry open the band of her watch. She kicked out, catching the thug in his calf and not doing much damage. The man’s fingernails dug into her skin, his rank breath sickening her. 

Just as she lifted her free hand to smash it against his temple, he was hauled away from her by his shirt collar. Whirling around to find his new attacker, the man’s face met a gloved fist. Clarity came over Allura and the world snapped into place. A figure stood in front of her, stretching his fingers. The rest of her attackers were sprawled across the ground, groaning and clutching at various body parts. 

“Fuck you, Kogane,” said the lead thug, spitting out blood. “Take her watch and you’ll get half of what we pawn it for.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Monty,” her helper replied in a rough baritone, punctuating the statement by sticking up his middle finger. His back was to her, so she studied what she could of him. Most of her view was blocked by the dark hood that covered his head. His red leather jacket was so faded it was almost orange, the yellow strip stitched around the chest and the white strips running down each sleeve fissured with age.

“Watch where you sleep,” the lead thug growled. The stranger cracked his knuckles at the threat. Worn combat boots crunched against the pavement as he barked out a short laugh. 

“I always do.” He turned and she could only glimpse black hair sticking out from underneath his hood as he beckoned her. “Come on.” 

“Thank you,” she huffed as they sprinted together. “I am indebted.” She couldn’t even feel her raw feet anymore; didn’t even care that they were likely bleeding. 

“You took care of the toughest ones,” he replied, without accepting her thanks. She frowned and thought of another way to phrase her gratitude. At the street corner, he halted and started digging through her purse. 

“Excuse me,” she said, wrenching it away from him. If he desired a reward, he could have just asked. She hadn’t escaped being mugged by a group of ruffians only to be mugged in turn by her scrawny saviour. 

“Distraction,” he muttered, as if that was all the explanation required. When she didn’t return her purse to his waiting hands, he sighed. “It’ll keep them from coming after you. Are you really going to miss a few twenties?” 

“I won’t,” she admitted, and let her purse fall back to her side. While he was busy opening up her wallet, she took the opportunity to yank his hood back. A handsome boy around her age stared up at her, indignation written across his fine features. Thick, black hair framed his pale face, his bangs falling into his obsidian eyes and almost obscuring them completely. 

“That was rude,” he said, fishing four twenty dollar bills from her wallet and stuffing it back into her purse. Allura shrugged in response. When he stood to his full height, she was able to look him straight in the eye. 

“Wh-.” Her question was interrupted by angry shouts as her attackers started picking themselves up from the ground. One second later, her phone was in her hand and she was typing. 

“I’m calling the police,” she informed the boy. He scoffed. 

“Don’t bother,” he said. Her fingers stilled. “The police only come here if someone dies. Taxis don’t come here at all.” His dark brows furrowed and he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look, all you have to do is go straight for four blocks and then you can call a taxi from there.” 

She nodded. “No one else will bother you,” he continued. “Go, now!” 

“What about you?” His eyebrows lifted at her concern. It was well-founded, she thought, seeing as her attackers had not been pleased by his interruption. 

“I’m going that way.” He pointed back towards where they had come from. She made to object, but he said, “I’ll be fine. Go.” 

She had no choice but to believe him. “Thank you,” she said again. He didn’t even nod in acknowledgement. Without another protest, she ran. And when she reached the fourth corner and looked behind her, the street was empty.


	2. Finding the Boy

Instead of paying the taxi driver the thirty dollars he was owed, Allura tipped him an extra two hundred. Truthfully, she was so grateful to be home that she would have given him one thousand. Back and forth, they professed their thanks to each other until Allura managed to get the last word in and break away. She limped towards the steel gates guarding her driveway, stabs of pain radiating from the soles of her feet up to her ankles.

Fucking Lotor. She growled out loud and clamped her mouth shut right after the sound disturbed the peace surrounding her house. Crickets chirped in the grass and she focused on their improvised harmony. 

Before she saw her father, she had to get ahold of herself. Straightening her scowl, she took deep breaths and regained control over her rage, sharpening the spreading bloom into a tiny, nagging knifepoint. She kept her anger well in reach, but she knew better than to let her emotions run wild. Lotor didn’t deserve to have any power over what she felt.

Dave did a double-take as she rapped on the guardhouse window with her knuckles, then waved. Immediately, he punched the gate open and it swung inwards soundlessly. As she strolled through, she assessed the long driveway stretching in front of her like some torture device. 

Even as the walk hurt, the view was comforting. Bright lanterns illuminated every part of the cobblestone road leading up to her house. Tall, tapering spruces filled the spaces in-between each one, vividly green and immaculately trimmed. Scattered statues and flower gardens decorated the yard, blue spotlights exposing their beauty in the suffocating darkness. Her stone mansion stood like a hulking mountain in the distance. 

When she reached the fountain in the middle of the circular drive leading up to her front door, she sat on the edge of the shallow basin and dangled her feet in the refreshing water. She and Lotor had frolicked through this same fountain and earned the ire of their fathers for the last time when they were ten years old. Eight years later, she had thought their easy relationship would never change. How wrong she had been. 

Losing her best friend stung more than losing her boyfriend. And while she was furious at how he had treated her tonight, she was just as furious at how he had willingly shattered their friendship beyond repair. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he had done yet. If he had the gall to think that she would ever trust him again, he was delusional. 

That boy, if he hadn’t been there...She ran her thumb over the face of her mother’s watch, observing as the seconds ticked by. All she had of her mother were pictures and possessions. Not once had Allura heard her voice.

Her father had never blamed her. He had never even implied it. But knowing that giving birth to Allura caused her mother’s death had weighed on her since she was old enough to understand.

Losing the watch wouldn’t have made her father angry at her. He rarely ever was. Allura would have been inconsolable, though. 

As hard as it was to leave the fountain and open her front door, she did. She padded over the marble tiles and up the curling stairs, breathing in the cinnamon scent of home. Soft, yellow light poured out of her father’s office. Knowing that he was right there, and that she was safe lessened the hurt and the fury echoing inside of her. 

With a pensive frown, she recognized that she had felt the same way sprinting through the street with that boy. Safe. Secure. Like he would have raised his fists and stood back-to-back with her to take on anyone, no matter the odds. 

“Is that you, Allura?” Her father’s familiar timbre drifted out his door. In response, she sidled to the room and leaned against the doorframe. His home office was a den of polished wood and dark leather, with tall windows and heavy curtains that fell from the ceiling to the floor. 

“Hello, Father.” He looked up from his laptop and smiled at her, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling. Fifty years looked good on him. Or at least that was what she overheard the ladies at the country club say on many occasions. His white-blond hair was slicked back and he was still wearing a suit, albeit having discarded the jacket and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. 

“I didn’t hear Lotor’s car,” he commented. She licked her lips as she decided how to proceed. Twisting the truth was the best option, but she hated lying to him. 

“We broke up.” The smile fell from his face, so she rushed to get her fabricated explanation out. “Our relationship just wasn’t working. We’ve always been better as friends.” Lies spewed from her lips so naturally that her father believed them. 

“As long as you’re happy, sweetheart.” Concern was still written across his features, so she plastered on a sad smile. She couldn’t look too indifferent or he would know that something else had happened. 

“I will be.” Sighing, she looked off into the distance. “It’s for the best, I think.” 

“Well, I trust your judgement.” This time she didn’t deserve his trust, but she kept that quiet. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. When he saw the look she gave him, he held up his palms to her in surrender. “Only one more report, I promise.”

“Don’t stay up until four in the morning again,” she teased, hoping that he didn’t catch the worry hidden underneath. Though her father was in excellent shape, when he wasn’t sleeping he was working. And even if he would drop everything to spend time with her should she ask him to, being Voltron’s CEO consumed his life, especially with the company recently putting in a bid to acquire Balmera Gold. 

“I promise not to,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m here for you, if you need to talk about anything.” They were both aware he was referring to the breakup. 

“I know you are.” She hugged him goodnight and retired to her bedroom. For a long time, all she could do was lie face-down on her bed and appreciate not being on her feet. When she took out her phone, she couldn’t help herself. 

Kogane. She searched every variation of the name on every social media account that she owned. No one resembling the dark-haired boy came up. 

Even when she did a general internet search for the name, only a few articles containing it appeared, and they were all over ten years old and irrelevant. The boy didn’t exist online, which wasn’t that unusual, but he had intrigued her enough that she wanted to know his full name, at least. Besides, she still needed to thank him properly. A few words weren’t sufficient for her. 

She wasn’t going to walk through Fairbanks at midnight ever again, or at any other time of the day, so the chances of her encountering him a second time were already slim. Her eyes flicked to the time on her phone and she startled once she saw it was one in the morning. She still needed to take a shower and dry her hair afterwards. 

Reluctantly, she ended her investigation for the night. She went to sleep after blocking Lotor on everything. Seeing their old photos darkened her mood and sent black rage coursing through her blood. But the mystery of the boy never left her thoughts, and with him there to distract her, Lotor didn’t even matter. 

~

When she started her car up in the morning, she sat still in the driver’s seat and listened to the seductive purr of the engine as it idled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had driven herself anywhere in her own car, and being behind the wheel again was exhilarating. Lotor had always picked her up in the mornings and dropped her off at nights. 

Looking back, she realized how pathetic that had been. Seeing her sleek, white Ferrari had made her grin so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. It wasn’t the most recent model, but it was one of the last Ferraris to have been made with a manual transmission, and despite her father’s offers to order her a new one, she wasn’t willing to give it up yet. 

In the midst of her elation, she didn’t understand why she had been so reliant on Lotor. Surely, she could have convinced him to use her car sometimes. But she hadn’t even tried. 

After checking the time, she took her foot off the clutch and sped out of the garage. On the streets, she relished accelerating and shifting through gears. She felt free and her spirits lifted. Even when she became snarled in early-morning traffic, she blasted the radio and sang along as she crawled towards her school. 

Pulling into the parking lot of Rosenstern Private Academy, everyone stared. Not because she was driving a Ferrari, but because she was driving herself. Alone. No Lotor in sight. 

Ignoring the blatant whispers, she strutted towards the gilded doors, smiling at acquaintances and staring down people whose gazes lingered on her a little too long. To relieve her tender, blistered feet, she had worn running shoes with thick ankle socks, hoping that she could pull off an effortless yet stylish look by matching them with black leggings and an oversized blue sweater. 

Her long, wavy hair floated through the air behind her, loose and windswept from the car ride. Right before she pulled the door open, she looked back to witness Lotor brake so suddenly he jolted forward into his steering wheel and accidently blared the horn with his chest when he saw that his usual spot was taken by her car. He was driving Haggar’s silver Porsche, and Allura couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Lotor hated everything about his mean stepmother, and while Allura agreed that she was awful, picturing Lotor begging to use her car and promising to spend family time with her and Zarkon in exchange was amusing. When she was inside the vaulted halls of Rosenstern, she stood in front of her locker and scrolled through the news on her phone, waiting for the first bell to ring. She was starkly aware of how lonely she must have looked to her peers - a solitary figure surrounded by people that actually had friends to talk to. 

Out of nowhere, deafening chatter turned into hushed whispering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lotor flouncing down the hallway, aiming straight for her. Not willing to back down from this battle, Allura faced him head-on. 

He lifted the Ray-Bans shielding his indigo eyes and hung them from his shirt collar. At the same time, he smoothed his silken hair with his other hand, throwing some errant strands over his shoulder. Long and lean, arrogant and powerful, his presence commanded the hall. When he smiled at her he was beautiful, his delicate, androgynous features so artistically symmetrical. 

Her fist itched to break his nose again. 

“Good morning, princess.” Crossing her arms, she glowered openly, unafraid to show her distaste.

“Don’t call me that.” With a lifted eyebrow, he braced a hand against her locker, leaning forward to tower over her. 

“I dropped by your house to pick you up this morning. Why did you decide to take the Ferrari out for a spin?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she caught the irritation in his clipped syllables. 

“I told you never to speak to me again.” Despite his obvious disbelief, she had meant it with her entire soul. 

“That doesn’t sound like an apology,” he crooned. His proximity sent rage boiling through every atom in her body. 

“You kicked me out of your car and left me in Fairbanks, you piece of shit.” She shoved him backwards. “I almost got mugged.” 

He rolled his eyes and returned, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Princess, I came back for you, but you were already gone.” 

“We are not dating anymore, Lotor. We are not friends.” Her eyes blazed. “Do not speak to me. Do not even look at me.” 

Faster than she could react, he stepped forward and pressed his body tight to hers, his fingertips resting on her hips. “Right now,” he breathed into her ear, “I believe I’m doing both.” His touch made her skin crawl. 

“Get off.” She tried to wriggle away from him, ready to cause a scene if needed. 

“My father and Haggar are going out tonight. Come over and you can apologize to me using that pretty mouth of yours.” Several pieces of information snapped together in her head all at once. Realization turned into astonishment, then pure fury. 

“How dare you,” she growled. He stepped back, a wrinkle between his perfectly groomed brows. She slapped him so hard the crack resounded down the hallway, followed by a chorus of gasps from the nosy students slinking over to hear more of their fight. 

“This was all just some sort of sick power play. Accusing me of cheating on you, playing the hurt boyfriend, kicking me out and coming back for me after I would have been scared enough to want you to. Did you honestly expect me to get on my knees and plead for you to believe me?” 

His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish’s as he scrambled for a rebuttal. “Well, it backfired,” she stated. “Our friendship is over, Lotor. We’re finished.” As if she had planned it, the first bell rang. It was the most exquisite music to ever grace her ears. 

While Lotor stood frozen, she gathered her books and slammed her locker shut. “When you come crawling back, you’ll know where to find me,” he said. She turned and walked away from him. 

“I’ll be waiting, princess,” he yelled after her, “and you know what I’m going to expect.” Inspired by the boy from last night, she raised her arm and stuck her middle finger high in the air, not bothering to look back. 

In class, she could barely concentrate. Over and over again, she replayed her conversation with Lotor in her head, remembering his stupid expression and almost letting her giggles interrupt Ms. O’Brian’s explanation of how to find the derivative of an exponential function. Public humiliation wouldn’t sit well with her ex-boyfriend, but she had certainly enjoyed shaming him. 

Not that it was enough for her to forget. But it helped. 

Lunch arrived too quickly, and as she entered the cafeteria the first people she saw were Lotor and his friends. They were her friends too, she supposed, but in a much less important way. Acxa smiled in invitation, but Allura could only respond with a polite wave before she fled. 

Her only friends were Lotor’s friends. When she had told her father that she was going to attend Rosenstern for her last year of high school after being homeschooled for her entire life, he hadn’t objected, even though the change would be drastic. 

Lotor was the one who had introduced her to everyone, who had integrated her into his elite circle. Everyone else she hadn’t needed to know. She felt small as she realized that she didn’t have anyone at school to socialize with anymore.

After lunch she had History and Biology with Lotor. In the latter, they were lab partners. If she couldn’t stand to be in the same cafeteria as him, she surely couldn’t stand sitting beside him in a tiny classroom. 

Signing out for the first time ever was nerve-wracking. The school secretary only smiled at her. “Skipping class, Miss Allura?” 

She knew it was a joke, but Allura couldn’t stop herself from tensing up. “Just a doctor’s appointment, Sherrie.” Lying was becoming easier. 

Her stomach growled as she hopped into her car. Before she was even conscious of where she was going, she found herself driving east towards Fairbanks. She almost turned around, but decided against it. 

She would need a lot of luck. And even with it, she probably wouldn’t find him. But she could try. 

Heads turned as she prowled through the streets of Fairbanks, the piles of litter and the broken buildings even more noticeable in daylight. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recognized the apartments that she had been attacked in front of. People loitered on the sidewalk and went about their business, but she caught no sight of that red jacket. 

Cutting her losses, she revved the engine and let her foot off the clutch. He was probably at school, or working. She had given up, until a dark head appeared in her rear-view mirror, peeking around the corner of a building.

She braked hard and threw her car in reverse. Before she reached him, he had already bolted. In an instant, she yanked her keys out of the ignition and scrambled out of her car. 

“Wait!” she yelled at his retreating back. She slammed her car door shut and ran after him, waving wildly with both arms. Looking over his shoulder, he stumbled to an undignified stop when he recognized her. 

Wincing, she slowed to a walk and tried not to think about how the blisters on her tender feet scraped against her socks. He jogged to her, confusion apparent in his narrowed eyes. “What are you doing back here?” he asked. “Looking for some more excitement? Do you want to get mugged again?” 

His blatant hostility made her second-guess herself. “I-I just wanted to thank you properly,” she stuttered. Tilting his head to the side, he surveyed her earnest expression. 

“You’re welcome.” When she didn’t leave, he crossed his arms, waiting for her to be done. 

“Let me take you out to lunch, in return.” A minute twitch of his eyebrow was the only way he conveyed his shock. 

“I’m homeless, not starving,” he snapped. She hadn’t even considered that he was living on the streets. Now he assumed her offer was an act of pity. 

“Look.” She held up her watch to him. Unimpressed, he glanced at it, then back to her. “This was my late mother’s. If someone had taken it from me, I don’t know what...” She trailed off, unable to describe how heartbroken she would have been to a stranger. In empathy, his countenance softened and he played with the zipper on his jacket before speaking carefully. 

“I'll go with you on one condition.” His sight zeroed in on her red keys. “I get to drive.” 

“It’s standard.” She prayed that he didn't know how to drive a stick-shift. Picturing anyone behind the wheel of her car right after she had rediscovered it displeased her. But if driving her car was the only way to get him to come to lunch, she would relent. 

“Good.” His slow, wicked smirk wasn’t meant for her, but her mouth went dry anyways. One last question, and he had the driver’s seat. 

“What’s your name?” She dangled her keys over his open palm, swaying them enticingly. He didn’t hesitate. 

“Keith Kogane.”


	3. Lunch at Adelina's

Allura liked to think that she was above envy. It was a petty emotion, meant for petty people. Being content relied on appreciating what one already had, instead of desiring what belonged to others. 

As Keith smoothly shifted into sixth gear, she reluctantly admitted to herself that the feeling coiling in her stomach was envy, and she realized that perhaps she wasn’t so beyond being petty after all. He drove like he was an extension of her car, his hands and his feet moving in perfect synchronization as he clutched. A smile played across his lips, gradually growing wider. Tearing down the freeway, he pushed her car to its limits, but never went past them. 

After driving it for four minutes he knew her own traitor car better than she did. He had discerned the optimal time to clutch, to shift, to accelerate, to brake, and the Ferrari glided down the road as he passed cars and manoeuvred between lanes. Speed was his goal, but he was always aware, always in control. 

His eyes were constantly searching, his limbs poised and ready to manipulate the car in any way he wanted to. He was a puppet-master, yanking on her car’s strings and making it obey effortlessly. Accepting his obvious skill, Allura relaxed her vigilance, decided that she wasn’t going to die with him at the wheel, and took the time to study him in the sunlight. 

Black, fingerless gloves covered his large hands. One gripped the steering wheel, his long fingers folded around the black leather. The other rested on the gear stick, his fingertips tapping out a rhythm unknown to her when he wasn’t shifting. Small, white scars adorned the skin that his gloves didn’t hide. She thought those unusual, but she made sure to not to stare for too long. 

Ensuring that he wasn’t looking, she let her gaze travel up higher. The red of his leather jacket was more vibrant in the day. There was a spot on the shoulder where it looked like a crest had been removed, the outline faint and indiscernible from a distance. 

She swallowed when her curious eyes reached the strong column of his throat and the sharp cut of his jaw. His black hair fell just past the base of his neck, the ends curling against the white collar of his jacket. Clean, soft strands brushed against his cheekbones. 

For one wild, uncharacteristic moment, Allura thought about how his thick hair would feel twisted in between her fingers. Unfortunately, he decided to glance over at the exact same time. Their eyes met and she whipped her head to the side to look out the passenger window, flushing at being caught. 

“You know,” she said, hoping to distract him from her red cheeks, “speed limits aren’t suggestions.” Much to her gratification, he started laughing, but cut himself off quickly. 

“I can slow down,” he said, with a hint of worry. “Am I frightening you, because I di-.”

“No,” she interrupted. “How did you learn to drive so well?” Fast and decisive, he belonged racing on a track. For a few long seconds, he was quiet. 

“I just do,” he finally supplied. “My driving instructor said I was a natural.” The tightness in his low voice told her that there was more he hadn’t divulged, but she let the subject go. They lapsed into comfortable silence again. 

Reaching Adelina’s, he pulled into the last available parking space and handed the keys back to her after taking a moment to inspect the Voltron Inc. keychain. He tugged his gloves off and tucked them beside the driver’s seat before looking at her expectantly. When she exited the car, he followed her lead. 

The restaurant was modeled after a small castle, with towers reaching skyward and burning torches leading up the walkway. Ivy climbed up the stone walls, pale, yellow flowers blooming along its green path. Letters spelling out Adelina’s Fine Dining on the wooden sign above the mahogany doors were painted in swirling, black cursive. 

The owners knew her well, which was the main reason she had chosen to come to Adelina’s. She and her father had dined here at least once a week until his workload escalated a few months ago. There was no dress code during lunchtime, which was also a motivating factor. In her running shoes, Allura looked like she had just stepped out of the gym. 

Keith...Well, with his ripped jeans and combat boots, he looked ready to start a brawl in the restaurant rather than sit in it, especially wearing that serious expression. Removing the gloves had been an improvement, but he still appeared quite unapproachable. 

“Miss Allura!” the hostess exclaimed once she walked in the door. Keith followed like her shadow, ill at ease and surveying the room with furtive glances. 

“Will your father be joining us today?” The hostess smiled as if she had known the both of them for years. Never before had Allura seen her, but the restaurant trained their employees to recognize high-profile clientele. 

“No, it will only be the two of us.” Nodding her head in acknowledgement and paying equal attention to Keith, the hostess led them through the restaurant to a table in front a picture window overlooking the flower garden. 

“Your usual table is taken, I’m afraid. Will this one do?”

“Of course,” said Allura. “Thank you.” Only when she was seated did she notice Keith’s stare boring into her. 

“You’re Alfor’s daughter. Your father’s the conglomerate king.” He said it as if he couldn’t quite believe it. 

“Yes, I am.” Politely, she reached her hand across the table. “Allura.” His hand clasped hers and shook it firmly. 

“What the hell were you doing in Fairbanks last night?” Confusion was etched across his face. She cleared her throat and figured she might as well tell him the truth. After all, he had been the one to help her escape without any major harm.

“My boyfriend – now ex-boyfriend – and I went out for dinner,” she said, looking at the table as she relived yesterday’s embarrassment. “To make a long story short, he got angry and kicked me out of his car.” 

A soft, “Oh,” was Keith’s only reply. Their waitress interrupted them by bringing over two bowls of butternut squash soup, her favourite, and two menus. Studiously, Allura flipped through the menu while Keith picked up a soup spoon and stirred the steaming appetizer. 

“Had he...” Keith started once the waitress was out of sight, every word careful. “Had he ever done anything like that before?” She snapped her head up and saw the caution lurking in his eyes as he assessed her reaction. 

“No,” she said, fast enough that she wouldn’t blame him for being suspicious. But it was the truth. As much as Lotor had taken his temper out on other people, he had never done the same to her until yesterday. 

Keith frowned in consideration and went back to stirring his soup, the metal of his spoon scraping lightly against the bottom of the glass bowl. Aghast looks from the other patrons seated in their vicinity almost made Allura laugh. 

“Good,” Keith rumbled, staring into his swirling soup. “Because if he ever had, you know, you should tell someone.” 

“If he ever had, I would.” Keith nodded in acquiescence and swallowed his first spoonful of soup. For someone who apparently wasn’t starving, he ate so fast that Allura had barely finished a quarter of her bowl by the time he was done. She half-expected him to forsake his spoon and lift the bowl to his mouth with his hands. 

“Allura, dear.” A wavering voice called out to her, one that she recognized as Jeanine’s. In front of her, the elderly owner was hobbling towards them, leaning heavily on her cane. At ninety-one and eighty-nine, Jeanine and her husband, Frederique, were far past retirement age, but they had never considered giving up managing Adelina’s, their legacy. 

“Jeanine,” Allura said, “it’s lovely to see you.” Allura stood and they embraced. Afterwards, Jeanine leaned her cane against their table and held Allura’s hands in-between both of hers.

They exchanged pleasantries, Jeanine’s eyes flickering over to Keith with undisguised interest. Not forgetting him, Allura gestured to Keith. “Jeanine, may I introduce Keith. He’s-.” She hesitated in how to describe him. “He’s a friend of mine.” 

Following her example, Keith rose to his feet and shook Jeanine’s trembling hand with a gentle grip. “Nice to meet you,” he said. After returning the sentiment, Jeanine then made the comment Allura had been so desperately hoping to avoid. 

“He’s not Lotor.” Her voice lilted at the end, changing the remark into a half-question. Allura fumbled for what to say. 

“Lotor won’t be dining with me in the future,” she finally stated. Eyes sparkling, Jeanine assessed Keith, who was failing at masking his attentiveness. 

“Feel free to sit back down, you two,” Jeanine said. They listened to her. Resting both hands on her cane, Jeanine looked between them both. “Good riddance to that nasty boy.” 

Shocked at the venom in Jeanine’s tone, Allura’s mouth dropped open. “I never told you this, Allura, but do you remember that one day you and Lotor were here and he collided with that new waiter?” Allura nodded, recalling how he had seethed for the next hour, and Jeanine continued. 

“Lotor came back by himself afterwards and screamed at the poor lad for spilling vinaigrette on his shoes. In front of the entire restaurant, he kept on until the waiter was sobbing.” Allura’s cheeks flamed and Keith’s expression slipped into disgust. 

“I’m so sorry,” Allura said. “I never knew. If I had, I-.”

“You’re not the one that needs to apologize, dear,” Jeanine assured. “Because he was your boyfriend, I let him dine here again, but mark my words, Lotor is a shiny apple with a rotten core.” 

“Now,” Jeanine abruptly changed the subject, pulling out a notebook and a pen, “what would you like to order?” 

Once Jeanine was out of sight, Allura hung her head in shame. Dating Lotor had been easy. Too easy. He had always been her best friend. 

In time, she had thought she would feel the heat, the thrumming pulse that should have come with his presence. Learning that all along he had buried his true, loathsome personality behind dazzling smiles and pretty words made her rethink everything about their relationship and her judgement. 

“You could have been seriously hurt when he left you in Fairbanks,” Keith said, rubbing salt into her open wounds. “Those guys chasing after you were minnows in a deep, rancid pond. Not good enough to get into a gang, but ruthless enough to try.”

“They knew who you were,” she observed. Was Keith a predator in that pond, preying on the minnows? She knew absolutely nothing about him, so it would be foolish to discount that as a possibility. 

“We’ve been in altercations before,” he admitted. “I’ve been on the streets for a bit. That group and I don’t get along.” 

“May I ask what your situation is?” Immediately, he tensed and she regretted the question. She was barely more than a stranger to him; of course he would be uncomfortable telling her something so personal. 

“I don’t need your help, or your pity.” He picked up a fork and started trying to balance it vertically on the table, earning more bewildered stares that Allura ignored. “Money can’t solve everything.” 

“You don’t have my pity.” She had to venture carefully if she wanted to get any information from him. “I didn’t mean to pry. Just forget I said anything.” 

He sighed and seemed to consider opening up. Then after taking a sip of water, he surprised her by saying, “I ran away from my foster home nine months ago.” Allura suppressed the urge to interrupt and ask him the reason. “I’m laying low until I turn eighteen in two weeks. After that, I’ll be free to do whatever I want.”

“Being homeless is your only option?” She probed broadly, asking open questions so that he would guide the conversation wherever he wanted to take it. If he felt that anything he disclosed was on his terms instead of hers, she would undoubtedly learn more. 

“It’s the safest option. My case worker refuses to let me leave the system, and if any authority finds me I’ll be forced to go back. That’s why I ran when you stopped your car so suddenly. I thought I had been discovered.” 

“Couldn’t you be placed in a different home?” Letting his fork tip over, he lost himself in a distant memory. 

“There are some things that it’s better to be ignorant about,” he answered, not elaborating any further. His drawn-in shoulders and downcast eyes told her everything and nothing all at once. 

Their meals arrived before Allura could think of a suitable reply. Thankfully, Keith’s demeanour lightened once he noticed his food. Like with the soup, he devoured his steak, barely pausing between mouthfuls. 

When he saw her staring, he bristled. “I do eat.” She was growing more doubtful of that fact, but she nodded and focused on cutting her chicken parmesan. 

“I can’t go to food banks because you have to register with government I.D. and my case worker will be tracking the lists,” he explained. “But the supermarket was throwing out cans of ravioli yesterday. Under regulation, they have to toss them, but the expiry date is only an estimate, so I’ll be fine for the next week or so.” 

Pride coloured his words. In her head, Allura congratulated herself for keeping a neutral expression. She didn’t know how to respond, and despite what she had said earlier, pity tugged at her chest. 

Keith sat in brooding silence, his arms crossed, and she ate as slow as she could, reluctant to let their time together end. There were still so many things she didn’t know about him, so many secrets that he held.

He was a mystery that she wanted to solve. And if she could, she wanted to help him – discretely, of course. Living alone and without shelter couldn’t have been easy. 

As the minutes passed, she found that she was glancing at him a little too often, and a little too long, but she couldn’t convince herself to stop. Her interest in Keith was growing in a dangerous way. It had been a long while since she’d felt flustered around anyone, but her mind had blanked and she couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be intrusive. 

“So, did you get back at Lotor for being a terrible boyfriend?” Keith asked, finally putting effort into making conversation. Her shoulders sagged in relief. 

“Somewhat,” she answered. “I-.” She stopped midsentence as an idea planted itself in her brain. A few seconds later, she had formulated the basis of her revenge. 

“I need a hacker.” Not just any hacker. The best one she could find. 

“I know of one,” Keith supplied, no questions asked. “Pidge Gunderson. He’s a Galaxy Garrison student that does computer work on the side.”

“A Garrison student is a part-time hacker?” she questioned. Keith nodded. 

“I went to the Garrison for a little while.” Interesting. The Garrison was a strict boys-only school funded by the federal government that fast-tracked students for a career in the military upon graduation. “I never knew Pidge, but my old acquaintances have told me about him. If you look up his name, you’ll find a website containing his contact information.” 

Allura took out her phone and searched for the site immediately. It advertised a fairly standard computer repair service, but at the bottom of the page was a separate email address to contact if one had any special requests. Hacking, she assumed, fell under that umbrella. 

When the bill came, Allura added a generous tip and paid for it with a tap of her credit card. Keith tried not-so-subtly to peak at the amount, but she shielded the receipt. Frederique came to see them off, and Allura introduced him to Keith, who seemed a little overwhelmed at all of the friendly attention being directed his way. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat of her Ferrari, he took a deep breath and turned the keys in the ignition, smirking at the deep rumble of the engine. “You have an incredible car,” he commented, running a gloveless, scarred finger down the steering wheel. 

“My father has a Bugatti Chiron. It makes this car look like a golf cart. If you ever wanted to come see it, you’d be welcome to.” His eyebrows shot up and she cringed internally. She had finally sunk so low that she was using a car to manipulate a boy into seeing her again. 

All she had to do was say that she would like to spend more time with him. Instead of articulating those words out loud though, a rush of shyness overcame her, holding her tongue captive. She was rarely nervous, but her palms were sweating as she attempted to work up courage. 

“I don’t know if I...” he mumbled. “I’ll think about it.” That was good enough for her. 

Before throwing her car into reverse, he gave her a strange, lingering look, as if he was working to understand something he found incomprehensible. In the bright sunlight, she noticed the dark violet undertones in his black irises. Their colour was mesmerizing, unlike anything she had ever seen. 

He drove more relaxed on the way back, still fast but not as aggressive. Only when a red Maserati ended up next to them at the lights and started revving did he max out the car’s acceleration and leave the challenger far behind before bringing the speed back down. Her envy evolved into grudging admiration, especially when his radiant smile showed how much he was enjoying himself. 

It was also really hot to see him handle her car with such confidence. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone but herself. 

When he pulled up to the curb at Fairbanks, it was far too soon for Allura. He left her keys in the ignition and she hopped into the driver’s seat, rolling down the tinted window on the passenger side to say goodbye. He rested his forearms on the sill and leaned his head in. 

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” he said.

“You’re not allowed to,” she warned, glaring at him for effect. He shrugged in defeat, then looked up at her through his charcoal lashes. Her breath caught at how handsome he was, and she decided to be bold. 

“Do you have a phone?” He shook his head. “Well, where can I find you?” 

He pointed down some filthy alley. “Third dumpster on the right.” This time, she couldn’t hide her grimace. 

“I’m only kidding,” he assured. “Every Wednesday, you can find me at Thace’s Automotive Repairs, a garage out on Sycamore Street. That’s the only place I know I’ll be with a certainty.” 

“Alright,” she said casually, trying not to sound too interested, but probably failing. She buckled her seatbelt and he stepped away from her car. “Thank you again, Keith.” 

“Anytime.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Goodbye, Allura.” When he said her name, his low voice caressed each syllable. And as she watched him walk away, she hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have exams coming up so there won't be a new chapter for another two weeks, at least. But I do have a Kallura smut fic ready to go, and I will be posting that next weekend. So if that's your type of thing, be on the lookout for Giving In.


	4. The Runaway Orphan

“Hey, Kogane.” Keith didn’t stop walking, and Morvok’s whiny voice didn’t stop stabbing knives into his eardrums. “Kogane, wait up!” 

“Not interested.” Raising his hood and shoving his hands in his pockets, Keith ignored the short man, hoping that he would run back to whatever hovel he had crawled out of that morning. When his statement was met with silence he thought he had succeeded, until Morvok waved a hand right in front of his face. 

“Fuck off.” Black, gruesome tattoos that Keith could never see the appeal of weaved down Morvok’s stubby arm. A busty woman was spread across the inside of Morvok’s bicep, half of her face intact, the other half rotting off. Keith pushed it away. “Thank you for the offer. I don’t want to buy any drugs.” 

“Oh, I have an offer, alright. Just not one that you would expect,” Morvok said. Keith could hear the smirk in his voice. He clenched his hands into fists and walked faster, forcing Morvok to keep up with his long strides. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Nothing good could come from anything Morvok offered. Ever. More likely than not, the offer would end with him dead in the sewer. 

“Don’t piss me off, Kogane.” Morvok panted as he struggled to match Keith’s pace. “This comes from the top.” 

That caught Keith’s attention. And ignited his caution. “There’s nothing I can do for the Alters.” 

“The Alters are no more. The Blades thrive,” Morvok growled, making some sort of gesture with his hand. Keith rolled his eyes. Just one month ago, Morvok had been practically shouting his allegiance to the former throughout all of Fairbanks. 

“So you’re called the Blades now? Same people, different name. I don’t care.” 

“You should.” Morvok grabbed a handful of Keith’s jacket and yanked him to a stop. The next second, Keith ripped away and sent him stumbling backwards with a blow to the chest. As Morvok slammed against a trashcan, the metal lid clattered to the sidewalk. 

Keith widened his stance and lifted his fists, but instead of retaliating, Morvok only grinned, showing yellowed, haphazard teeth. His mouth stretched far too wide for the smile to be genuine, his face twisting into a grotesque caricature. “We want you, Kogane. Sendak’s heard about you. He’s the one who sent me. There’s a big deal going down tonight. Come and you’re in.” 

“No.” Keith’s heart was in his throat, even as he stared down Morvok. His expression betrayed nothing, but terror was coiling through him. To defy Sendak was foolish _and_ dangerous. In the worst cases, it was fatal. 

“Tell Sendak that I appreciate the offer, but I will not be accepting it.” Morvok’s grin died. Keith started walking again, ending the conversation before it could go any further. 

“Think about it, kid. You could be bringing in some good money.” There was a hint of desperacy in Morvok’s tone. Enough that it was worrying. Not enough to make him change his mind. “You could get anything you want. Get yourself off the streets. Get an apartment. Get a girl.”

“You have no idea what I want. Go away.” 

Again, Morvok yanked on the sleeve of Keith’s jacket. “But-.” Keith’s fear exploded into hot rage. His hands were clutching the collar of Morvok’s shirt before he could even think of controlling himself. 

He lifted Morvok in the air and slammed him against the brick wall facing the sidewalk. “Do not touch me,” Keith said. Every word out of his mouth cut like the edge of a knife. 

“I am not joining your joke of a gang. Tell Sendak not to waste his time.” Nostrils flared, eyes wide in fear, Morvok only nodded. Then his mouth twitched. 

Before Morvok could move his hand more than one inch, Keith had the switchblade he had been aiming for twirling in his fingers. “You sold Eric some BLD laced with god-knows-what two weeks ago. That old veteran with the neck scars, you know him. He died alone in his apartment, covered in his own vomit. Or so I’ve been told.” With a flick of Keith’s wrist, the blade snapped into place. 

“How many other deaths have you caused, Morvok? How many people have you gotten hooked on that shit? How many lives have you and the Blades ruined?” Morvok only whimpered as his gaze fixated on the sharp, metal point hovering in front of his right eye. 

“Leave me alone,” Keith threatened, releasing Morvok’s collar and stepping back after bringing the switchblade down to his side. Morvok cowered, as if he was trying to melt into the wall. With another flick of Keith’s wrist, the blade folded back into the handle. 

“Thanks for this.” Keith flipped the switchblade in the air, catching it and tucking it into one of his jean pockets. “If you bother me again, I’m going to use it.” 

Morvok wasn’t someone to turn your back on, but Keith had to do it if he was going to sell his act. Hyper-vigilant, he waited to hear the sounds of Morvok scurrying up behind him, second knife primed to stab. But they never came. 

“You’re fucking insane, Kogane!” Morvok screeched at Keith’s retreating figure. “Fuck you! Psycho!” 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Keith didn’t bother to reply. When he rounded the street corner, he finally glanced back to make sure that Morvok wasn’t tailing him. No one saw him when he let his shoulders slump, when he let out a shaky breath, when he stomped on the blade of the knife and broke it in half, discarding both pieces in the nearest dumpster. 

Adrenaline was pumping through his blood, and he was so wired that when he reached the garage he didn’t bother to pour himself a cup of coffee. It was hard not to think of the fact that he had just signed his own death warrant. He should have just run over to the public cemetery and started digging a grave. 

Though he had said so to Morvok, the Alters were not a joke. As the gang reformed themselves to become known as the Blades, that wouldn’t change. Sendak, their leader, was as evil as a man could be.

Never had Keith set eyes on Sendak, but he had learned enough from the stories. The ones who were brave enough said that whatever was supposed to make someone human was broken inside him. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a dark crevice. There was only emptiness. 

He was made of anger and an insatiable lust for power, nothing more, nothing less. And Keith had just turned down his personal offer - an offer that so many people in Fairbanks would have literally killed for. His only saving grace was that he had scared off Morvok. 

Very likely, Morvok had been sent with orders to _make him accept_ , no matter the method of persuasion. Morvok’s failure would reflect more on Morvok than Keith. Or so he hoped. If there was a God, he had left Keith to fend for himself a long time ago, but he sent up a futile prayer anyways. 

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Keith took off his jacket and pulled his sweater over his head, stashing them both in a corner. He tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his black t-shirt, to no avail. By habit, he moved a hand to where the strap of his glove should have been, feeling nothing but skin. With a sigh he looked down at his bare hands. The white scars adorning them were stark in the harsh, fluorescent lighting. 

Not for the first time, he thought about how stupid it had been to leave his gloves in Allura’s car. She probably hadn’t even noticed them, and now he would never get them back. Six days ago, it had seemed like a clever way to see her again. He would forget his gloves, and then she would have to come by the garage to return them. 

He didn’t know where that absurd confidence had come from. His whole life he had seen pictures of Allura and her father in the newspaper, always dressed up for galas or some type of charity event. She was so far out of his league she might as well be on Saturn. 

Telling her that he was a runaway, that had been idiocy as well. Allura was too rich to bother with a caseworker looking for a lost orphan, but he never knew who Laura had her claws sunk into. One mistake, one accidental word from Allura to the right people, and he was discovered. He didn’t know what had compelled him to speak the truth over lunch. 

If he was anything to Allura, he was a project. Rehabilitate the poor, homeless kid so that he can function in society again, then pat herself on the back afterwards – that was probably her plan. He had told her that he would be at Thace’s today, but he didn’t expect her to show up. He never expected to see her again, truthfully. 

The door banged open, interrupting his musings. Thace sauntered in with Ulaz in tow. “Morning, Keith.” He nodded in greeting as Thace made a beeline for the coffee pot and Ulaz took a seat next to him at the table. 

“Three oil changes today,” Ulaz said, sliding three pairs of keys over to him. “Those are all yours.” With the movement, the thick, black band covering Ulaz’s arm from his wrist to his shoulder caught Keith’s attention. A twin tattoo decorated his other arm, just as black, just as noticeable. 

He tried not to stare, but the tattoos always made him uneasy. Whenever he looked at them a shiver ran up his spine, like he was intruding on something very old and very personal. Thace sported the exact same ones. There was only one reason they would have gotten them – they had something to hide, some part of their past they wanted to erase. 

Thace came up behind Keith, gripping the top of his chair and unknowingly jolting him out of his inspection. Groaning, Keith pocketed the keys. “Don’t worry,” Thace said. “There’s a bike coming in this afternoon. 750cc. Brake problems. You can take the first look.” 

“Thanks.” When Keith said it, he wasn’t just talking about the bike. Thace paid him off the books, in cold, hard cash, and without that, Keith would probably be unlawfully relieving corner stores of their wares far more often than he already was. He owed Thace and Ulaz more than he could ever hope to pay them back. 

A few more mechanics trickled in and everyone soon got to work. The hours went by fast, filled with the tangy scent of welded metal and the squeals of troubled engines, and when lunch came, Keith’s stomach was grumbling. “Hey, Keith, I have a few extra pizza pockets that I’m not going to eat,” Thace called from the kitchen, waving the box in the air. 

“I’ll take ‘em,” Keith shouted back, closing the hood of the car he had just finished working on. His back was to the open garage doors when he heard the rumble. He went rigid as the sound came closer and closer, and he knew exactly who it was courtesy of the amazed looks on everyone’s faces as they stared past him. 

Slowly, he turned as the white Ferrari pulled up to the curb across the street. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might crack his ribs. Then Allura got out of her car and he couldn’t believe it was actually her - couldn’t believe that she was there to see _him_. 

With her white-blonde hair gathered up in a high ponytail and her smooth, brown skin gleaming in the sun, she was even more radiant than he remembered. As she walked, the wavy strands swayed through the air, the ends brushing against her lower back. For a moment, she stood still and inspected the sign on the front of the garage, her brows furrowed and her full lips downturned in a small pout. All he could do was stare.

“Holy.” Keith glanced to his left and saw Darryl leering at Allura – _leering_. Anger had him digging his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. Then Darryl opened his vile mouth to say something about her, and Keith snapped. 

“Say one fucking word and I’ll make you wish you didn’t.” Astonished, Darryl clamped his lips shut and studied the ground, unable to match Keith’s lethal glare. 

As he walked towards her, Keith grabbed a dirty rag and started scrubbing his skin. His hands were covered in black grease, and filthy streaks were smeared down his arms. He knew the task was fruitless, but that didn’t stop him from trying to look half-presentable. 

When she caught sight of him, her face seemed to brighten. He swallowed. Hard. 

“Allura.” He let his lips tilt up in a subdued smile. With a jerk of his head, he gestured for her to walk with him to the side of the garage, where there were no curious eyes. 

“Keith, I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. 

“No,” he said instantly, keeping his gaze level with hers. “Never. Of course not. No. I-.” He almost bit his tongue as he forced himself to stop his anxious babbling. 

“That’s good. I was just, well...” She pursed her lips and looked to the faded, red siding of the garage as she collected her thoughts. With a start he remembered his gloves and glanced at her hands, searching for the dark fabric that should inevitably be there. But she was only holding her keys. 

“I have a favour to ask of you,” she said. He stopped himself from blurting out an immediate acceptance. 

“What is it?” Determined, she made eye contact with him again. Her irises were the most captivating shade of blue, the colour of the sky on a clear day. 

“I take martial arts lessons, for fun and self-defense. A teacher comes to my house twice a week. For the most part, I study Krav Maga, and, usually, Lotor and I would take our lessons together, but as you know, I’m not speaking to him and I need someone to spar with and you seem to be quite good at fighting and I would appreciate it immensely if you would take Lotor’s place.”

She spoke so fast she was breathless after she finished the last sentence. Keith was so confused that it took him a moment to respond. “You want me to train with you?” 

“I do.” 

“At your house?” 

“Yes.” She was looking at him expectantly, and he was so torn. Eight days, then he was free. Even if Laura found him, she couldn’t do much in eight days. He could just run away again, and as soon as he turned eighteen, she wouldn’t have power over him anymore. 

“I’ll do it,” he said. She beamed at him, making all of his lingering doubt disappear. For so long, he had been hiding, the tight grip of paranoia deciding his every action. It was time to take chances and start living. 

“Wonderful,” Allura exclaimed, forging ahead. “Are you able to make it for tomorrow? I can pick you up wherever. For six o’clock in the evening, let’s say.”

“I can make it there on my own. Your house is in the Hills, right?” There was nowhere else that the richest family in Altea would live, but he had to be certain. 

“One Summerset Drive,” Allura provided. “Tell the security guard your name and he’ll let you through the gates. Are you certain you don’t need a drive?”

“Really, I have my own ride. I’ll be there for six.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I actually, uh, accidentally left my gloves in your car the other day.”

Allura’s cheeks flushed. “Oh! I didn’t even notice them. I’m sorry.” As she stalked to her car, he followed her. She flung open the car door and reached down in-between the centre console and her seat, coming up with both gloves. 

Their fingers brushed when she gave the gloves to him, and she wrenched her hand back so quickly he was almost offended. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. She could barely look him in the eye as she climbed into her car. 

“See you then,” he replied, his gaze unashamedly tracing her elegant features, from her dark lashes to the delicate curve of her neck. Oblivious, she started up the engine. When she looked up at him, she was smiling again. He couldn’t help but grin back. 

Watching her go, he remembered how it had felt to drive her Ferrari. Nothing was like flying, but it was probably the closest he would ever get to being a pilot again. Banishing those thoughts, he trudged back to the garage. There was no use holding on to old regrets. 

Fortunately, everyone was wise enough not to say anything about Allura. For the rest of the day, he ignored the inquisitive stares. The puzzle of the motorcycle’s brake problem took his full concentration, and before he knew it, the sun was dipping below the horizon. 

He called it a day when the last mechanic went home. Thace was the only other person left in the garage, and Keith caught him right before he started to turn off the lights. “I have a question.”

With a nod, Thace said, “Go on.”

“I ran into Morvok today,” Keith started. 

Thace’s lip curled up in a sneer. “That tiny piece of shit. He’s only an Alter because he does such a good job of licking everyone’s boots. Makes them feel important.” 

“They’re not the Alters anymore, Morvok said. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” Thace frowned. “He said they were calling themselves the Blades.”

An instant change came over Thace, turning his calm demeanour into something frightening. His eyes flared wide and he growled in fury. “Are you sure that’s what he said?” 

“Yes. The Blades.” Before Keith could react, Thace clamped his hands on Keith’s shoulders, his fingers digging in painfully. 

Keith struggled to free himself, but Thace was a large man, with strength Keith couldn’t even begin to overcome. “What the he-.”

“Listen to me, Keith,” Thace interrupted, dead serious. “Don’t say that name to anyone ever again. Don’t go near Morvok. Don’t go near any member of the so-called Blades. If you see one of them, run in the opposite direction and don’t look back.” 

“O-okay,” Keith stuttered. “Let go.”

“Promise me,” Thace yelled, shaking Keith's shoulders. There was real terror dancing in Thace's pupils, leaching into his hoarse voice, and Keith didn't understand why.

“I promise!” Keith yelled back. When Thace released him, Keith lurched backwards, glaring up at the crazed man. 

“I need to go,” Thace said, talking more to himself than Keith. “Lock up the place with your keys, alright? See you next Wednesday.” Before Keith could agree, Thace was sprinting out the door. The tires of his Jeep squealed as he shot off down the street. 

Shaken, Keith decided it was best to think about Thace’s outburst another time when he could collect his rampaging thoughts. He went through the procedure of closing up the garage, but when he locked the door, he locked it from the inside. If Thace or Ulaz knew he used the shower and slept in the kitchen some nights, they hadn’t said anything. 

Before he went to sleep, he walked to the back corner of the garage where a motorcycle stood off to the side, separate from everything else cluttering up the place. He whisked off the sheet covering it, and admired Red with a smug grin. Eight months ago, he had won the bike off of an intoxicated Thace after he had offered it up as a bet during a game of poker and promptly lost. Thace wasn’t using it, so Keith didn’t feel bad about convincing him to honour the deal the next morning. 

Despite Morvok, despite Sendak, despite Thace, Keith was excited as he thought about what the next day would bring. He would get to ride his bike. He would get to see Allura. For the first time in months, he felt something like contentment. It wouldn't last, but, as always, he could pretend.


	5. Crossfire

“Don’t forget about Shay,” Coran yelled, just as Allura was about to shut the front door. She came to a sudden stop, her hand tightening on the doorknob and her stomach dropping.

“Of course not,” she said, faking flippant assurance. Another day, another lie. “She’s supposed to be at Rosenstern at noon, yes?” That was her best guess, and she hoped it was right.

“You are correct.” She sighed in relief. Coran popped his head over the upstairs railing to look down at her, a cleaning rag dangling from his hand. As Estate Manager, he was constantly looking for any slight imperfection to remedy. “Your father says she’s a lovely girl. I’m sure you’ll both get along splendidly.”

“I’m certain we will.” With a wave, Allura ran out the door and leapt down the front steps. She was already late to Calculus, for the first time ever. And now she had to worry about Shay.

Normally, she would be excited to show the girl around. The daughter of Balmera Gold’s CEO, Shay, like Allura, had been homeschooled her whole life, albeit across the ocean. Her family owned every mine on Balmera, a large, resource-rich country.

Balmera Gold originally belonged to the Balmeran government, but the company was privatized after the government went bankrupt and had to find a way to pay off their debts. Shay’s grandfather bought it, and the purchase had allowed the family to amass immense power and privilege. But, like her, Allura was sure that Shay had experienced the same loneliness and sheltered upbringing that power brought.

While the preliminary acquisition talks were ongoing, her father had gone to Balmera and met the family. He had told Shay about Rosenstern, and sure enough, she had decided that she wanted to attend. Today, she was supposed to go on a tour of the school – one that Allura was supposed to lead, and that she had completely forgotten about.

For years, Allura had been charged with charming the children of her father’s work colleagues. You can tell a lot about a person by how their children act, he always said. She would report to her father about them, just as the other children would talk to their parents about her. He depended on her to leave a good impression, and she hadn’t failed him yet.

If she hadn’t decided that she loathed the Balmera acquisition with every inch of her soul yesterday, she might actually be looking forward to meeting Shay. On Monday, her father had informed her that he was going to be staying downtown for the next month or so, at the Hightower Hotel. It would be easier for him to commute to Voltron headquarters that way.

Even if he denied it, she knew that he was only sleeping for a couple hours each night. Besides good morning and goodnight texts, he was silent. To say she was worried would be a gross understatement.

He could handle a heavy workload, but she wished that he wouldn’t push himself so hard. Ever since creating Voltron twenty-five years ago, her father had been tirelessly engaged in growing the company. Allura’s biggest fear was that one day the stress would catch up to him. It had happened to his dead friends. It could happen to her father.

Balmera Gold was only making everything worse. Bordering Kerberos, Balmera was already experiencing the effects of the civil war ripping the neighbouring country apart. After the disappearance of ten Arus soldiers on a peacekeeping mission to Kerberos last year, tensions were rising and the acquisition was being scrutinized from every angle. If she had the choice, she would abandon the venture altogether. But she didn’t, so all she could do was seethe.

~

After successfully avoiding Lotor for half the day, Allura made her way to the front office. Less than a minute after she arrived, a large entourage garbed in black suits and sunglasses walked through the doors. She groaned as she realized that she hadn’t even asked Coran what Shay looked like.

But as the entourage parted and a muscular teenage girl stepped out ahead, there was no one else that it could be. She was one of the tallest people Allura had ever seen, with short hair that suited her broad facial structure. “Shay!” she called, strutting towards the group with a welcoming smile. With a jolt, Shay looked up then turned her gaze to the floor. Undeterred, she finished introducing herself. “I’m Allura.”

“Hello,” Shay mumbled. When she shook hands with Allura, her grip was weak and her palm was sweaty.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” Shay nodded meekly in response. “We just have to go to the office first so you can meet Principal Hawes,” Allura said, unfazed by Shay’s shyness. She could talk enough for the both of them anyways. Her father always said it was a talent.

Checking in at the office was lengthier than Allura expected. Principal Hawes introduced himself to Shay and prattled on about the school’s ritzy history and various famous alumni. Smoothly, Allura was able to interrupt his speech and extract them from his monotone droning. “And everyone’s favourite place is the courtyard,” she said, completing one of his sentences for him. “That’s where we’ll go right now. Thank you, Mr. Hawes.”

“Stay here.” Shay gave the order to her bodyguards in a surprising moment of confidence. As soon as she turned back to Allura, though, her shoulders slumped, as if she were trying to make herself small and unnoticeable.

“So, what subjects are you interested in?” Allura asked. Showing Shay the parts of the school she actually wanted to see would hopefully get her to open up.

“Physics,” Shay muttered, talking to the floor. Allura had to struggle to hear the rest. “Chemistry. Biology. Math.”

“Alright,” Allura said, full of forced enthusiasm. “We’ll go to the labs first.” Dodging students on their lunch breaks, they barely made it halfway to the east wing when Lotor fell in stride beside Shay.

“Lotor, your math tutor will be waiting for you.” Allura tried her best not to speak with outright hostility. The partnership between Alfor and Zarkon had to appear stable in every way. Warring children would convey the exact opposite.

“I cancelled for today,” he said, gracing Shay with an enthralling smile. His long hair was tied up in a ponytail, and he was breathtakingly handsome. Just the sight of him made her ill. “There was something much more important going on, I was told.”

Allura didn’t blame Shay for blushing as he gave her his full attention. When he wanted to, he could be a very convincing gentleman, as immaculate on the outside as he was rotten on the inside. She couldn’t think of any way to warn Shay without putting the acquisition in jeopardy.

He introduced himself, shook her hand, and Shay’s whole face went bright red at the brief skin contact. Behind Shay’s back, Allura glared at Lotor and cocked her head in a silent threat. With a wink, he dismissed her anger. She wanted to tackle him into a locker.

“Lotor has some trouble with math,” Allura explained to Shay, hoping the insult was so subtle that only Lotor would understand it. “Though it was nice of him to want to accompany us, it would be best for his grades if he did go to his tutor today.”

“Math takes practice,” Shay said, her voice growing louder, more assured. “I’m good at it, but if it doesn’t come naturally to you then you should study.”

“If you insist.” Lotor knew when he had been beaten, and bowed out graciously. “You know,” he moved his face closer to Shay’s, “when you move here _you_ could be my tutor. We could learn a great many things together.” Hunching her shoulders, she nodded her head imperceptibly.

“Have a wonderful tour,” he purred. As he walked away, Allura looked over her shoulder to find him staring back at her.

 _I miss you_ , he mouthed.

 _Fuck you_ , she mouthed back. He licked his lips, then threw his head back in silent laughter. Oblivious to the exchange, Shay said, “Allura, is that the gym? Can we see it now?”

“Of course.” Pushing Lotor out of her thoughts, Allura refocused on the tour. The red was beginning to fade from Shay’s face, but as they turned to enter the gym Shay glimpsed Lotor’s retreating back and the colour flared up again.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” she whispered. Wonderful. Her father had told Shay all about her and Lotor’s loving relationship.

“Not anymore. We liked being friends more than we liked being together. It was a mutual breakup.” Pursing her lips, Shay seemed to be convinced by the same lie Allura had fed to her father.

“He’s gorgeous.” Shay’s voice dropped even lower. “But, no offense, he creeps me out a little bit.” She ended the sentence with a grimace.

Allura couldn’t restrain her undignified cackling. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she laughed, and soon, Shay joined in.

“Zarkon is nothing like Lotor, believe me,” Allura said, once she had calmed down. “He’s sensible where Lotor is not.”

“I’ve met him already,” Shay supplied. “Zarkon spent a lot of time at my house while he was leading the security and risk audit on our mines. He and Alfor got along very well.”

“They always have.” Since their first day at Altea University, the pair had been best friends.

“Lotor was very kind to skip his math lessons so that he could come meet me, though. I appreciate that.” A faint blush appeared on Shay’s cheeks _again_.

“Mhm,” Allura hummed noncommittally. Kind wasn’t a word she would use to describe Lotor, but Shay could believe whatever she wanted to. Once the acquisition was cemented, Allura could let her know all about Lotor’s conduct.

After Shay’s shyness dissipated, she was eager to talk about herself. In Balmera, women weren’t permitted to hold technical or leadership positions. Though her father grudgingly allowed her to be taught the sciences, he would never allow her to have a future in them. That was the main reason she wanted to come to Rosenstern, so that she would be able to live out her dream of becoming an engineer.

When they parted, Allura had no doubt that Shay would be attending Rosenstern for the winter semester, and she was grateful for it. Finally, she would have a friend to spend time with. She would never take Lotor back, but she was starting to feel lonely without his constant company.

For the past week she hadn’t even entered the cafeteria. Every day, she went home as soon as school ended, trained, studied, then fell asleep. All she had to look forward to was seeing Keith again.

Her stomach fluttered as she thought about how soon he would be at her house. Kolivan had been sceptical when she told him about Keith, but she assured him that Keith had _the fire_ , as Kolivan called it – an innate drive to succeed, to conquer, to overcome. He would only teach prospective students that met his stringent standards, and if there was one thing Allura was sure of, it was that Keith wouldn’t disappoint.

~

She was seated on the front steps in her workout clothes and sock-covered feet, scrolling through her phone when the motorcycle came roaring through the gates and down the driveway. It was so loud she fumbled her phone and caught it just before it smashed against the marble. The setting sun glared off the sport bike’s red paint and the driver’s matching helmet.

As it got closer to the house, she recognized the leather jacket and the gloved hands. His black hair peaked out from under his helmet, and his ripped jeans still sported black grease stains from yesterday. She stood, crossing her arms as Keith came to a stop behind her Ferrari and turned the bike off.

When he removed his red helmet and held it under one arm, her heart started to pound. He lounged on the seat, balancing the bike with his legs and staring up at her house in awe. She cleared her throat to catch his attention, and he looked almost embarrassed when he noticed her. With narrowed eyes, she walked down the steps while he propped the kickstand up with his boot and swung off, each of his feet hitting the ground with a thud.

“That’s _your_ bike?” she asked in disbelief. Anyone could tell that it was an expensive machine. Upon closer scrutiny, she saw that it was in immaculate condition. The body was built out of severe, jutting angles that came together in a sleek design, and the chrome accents gleamed, free of rust.

“I won it in a bet,” Keith rumbled, answering her silent question as to how he could afford it. “Thace, my boss, lets me use garage plates whenever I drive it, so there’s no chance of the police coming across any of my information.”

“It’s very nice,” she observed, briefly wondering how it would feel to be seated behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her chest pressed to his back as he drove down the freeway. Keith stood a little straighter at the compliment, a proud smile playing across his face. Breaking off her lingering gaze, she motioned for him to follow her inside.

Chandeliers and marble floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors greeted him. His jaw dropped at the opulence, and Allura paused to let him take it all in. When she started walking again he didn’t move, instead training his eyes on the collection of shoes in the closet.

“Keith, is everything okay?” she asked. He was toying with the zipper on his jacket. It was something she had seen him do before, when he was feeling uncomfortable. Before replying, his lips formed a tight line.  

“I just...I don’t like to take my shoes off in other people’s houses. It’s weird, I know, and-.”

“You don’t have to take them off,” she assured him. Growing up, her father had passed on to her his simple philosophy about messes - they could always be cleaned. “The housekeepers will be thrilled to find an actual shoeprint.”

He raised his eyebrows and took a tentative step forward. “Thank you.” His combat boots clomped against the tiles as she led him to the gym.

Leaning against the far wall, Kolivan was waiting for them. Calm and disciplined, he was an ex-military general with an astronomical pension that taught martial arts classes in his spare time. Kolivan was tall and intimidating muscular, but Keith didn’t even blink at the first sight of him.

Kolivan’s eyes flared, though, as soon as Keith walked through the door. “So you’re Keith,” Kolivan said, bypassing any formal introduction and stalking forward. There was something unsettling about the tightness in his shoulders, but Allura dismissed it.

Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Kolivan didn’t let him. “It would have been quite a _calamity_ if you weren’t able to make it,” he snarled. “Yes, a real _calamity_.” He was putting such a strange emphasis on calamity, obnoxiously dragging out the syllables every time he said it.  

“I guess so,” Keith answered, every word hesitant. Whether he was conscious of it or not, he was responding to Kolivan’s aggressiveness, tensing every muscle and centring himself, as if he were getting ready for a fight.

“Kolivan, Keith is my guest,” Allura said, hoping that would snap him out of whatever infantile mood he was in. If this was some sort of test, he was already taking it too far.

“Allura said you took down a group of five thugs by yourself when she was attacked in Fairbanks. Show me your gloves.” Keith curled his hand into a fist and lifted it. The reinforced knuckles were obvious in the harsh light.

Choking down a gasp, Allura just stared. Steel plates were sewn into each knuckle, disguised under the black kevlar. One wrong punch to the head with those gloves and Keith could kill someone.

“That’s an easy way to get thrown in jail for assault with a deadly weapon.” Keith stood his ground, his expression sober as Kolivan rolled his shoulders and took another step forward.

“I know,” Keith said. Fire was burning in his pupils as Kolivan sneered.

“Allura.” Kolivan pivoted to face her. “I’ve shown you how to fight in hand-to-hand combat, but I haven’t shown you how to fight with a weapon yet. There’s a logical reason for that. Fistfights _can_ be fatal, but a knife fight _will_ be fatal. And that would be a _calamity_ , wouldn’t it?” He glared at Keith and continued.

“A knife fight is fatal because once a knife appears, someone’s going to get stabbed.” He walked over to his coat hanging on the wall and emphasized his statement by pulling out a bowie knife.

“What are you doing?” Allura gasped. “Put that down.”

“What happens when someone brings out a knife in a fistfight?” He twirled the knife in his hand and prowled towards Keith. “You know, don’t you Keith? You know what a _calamity_ it becomes.”

“Kolivan, stop!” Allura yelled. He didn’t. He lifted the knife and Keith backed away, both hands raised in surrender. But Kolivan kept advancing.

Kolivan bared his teeth. “Watch closely, Allura,” he grit out. “Because when someone pulls out a knife, this happens.”

He brought the knife down towards Keith, and before Allura could scream, there was a gleam of silver in Keith’s hand and his arm shot out to block the slash. Metal clashed. For a breathless moment, they paused and Allura could see the dagger that Keith was now holding.

Then Kolivan moved and their weapons were a blur as Keith defended himself from a vicious onslaught. There was no way for Allura to try and stop Kolivan without risking being cut, so she stood to the side, useless. Keith’s eyes were wide in fear as he jumped backwards, just barely managing to deflect Kolivan’s strikes. The fight ended with Kolivan disarming Keith and holding both knives to his throat.

“Kolivan!” Allura yelled. “Back off!” Slowly, he did. Chest heaving, Keith moved in the opposite direction, his eyes never leaving Kolivan.

“What is wrong with you?” She grabbed Kolivan’s coat and threw it at him. “Get out!”

“That was a little demonstration of how a fight can escalate into a _calamity_ beyond anyone’s control,” Kolivan said, letting his coat fall to the floor. There was duct tape on the base of Keith’s dagger, and Kolivan ripped it off.

“Don’t touch that!” Keith shouted. Ignoring him, Kolivan studied the symbol carved into the hilt. His expression was murderous.

“Who gave you this?” he asked.

“That’s none of your business.” With a growl, Keith grabbed for the dagger, wary of Kolivan but angry enough to push his luck.

“Who gave you this?” Kolivan repeated, moving away from Keith’s grasping hands. “Tell me the truth.” Kolivan’s fingers were turning red as he held the dagger in a vice-grip.

“My dad,” Keith snarled.

“Did he get it from your mother, perhaps?”

“I never had a mother, so I don’t know!” Keith exploded. “I don’t even know her name!” His voice cracked. “Give it back to me!”

Emotionlessly, Kolivan flipped the dagger to Keith. “It would be best for you to throw that in the trash and forget about it.” He crossed his arms. “I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are.” Keith tucked his dagger into the sheath strapped to his back, hidden underneath his t-shirt. While Allura was still stunned, Keith stomped out of the room.

“When I get back,” she threatened Kolivan, running towards the door, “you better be out of my house.”

She caught him when he was halfway down the front steps. “Keith, I am so sorry. I don’t know why Kolivan would ever do something like that. He’s leaving right now, and you can stay-.”

Keith turned on her with untamed ferocity. “I am not going to be your pity project,” he shouted. “Feel good about yourself some other way.”

“You’re not my project.” Dismay made her face fall. This whole time he had thought that she was only interested in him because she felt sorry for him. “I-.”

“Leave me alone.” He sounded so broken, so lost, that she did. Her heart sank, but Allura let him go without another word. He started up his motorcycle, jammed his helmet on his head, then sped off. The gates swung open in the distance just as Kolivan came to stand beside her.

“That motorcycle,” he scoffed. His lip was still curled up in a sneer.

“How did you know he had a knife?” she asked. He didn’t bother answering her question. When she scowled at him, he didn't even have the decency to react. 

“I’m not one to tell you what to do, Allura,” he said, “but I suggest you stay away from him. Someone’s trying to get that boy killed, and you do not want to be caught in the crossfire.”


	6. Murphy's Law

“So, I’m going to need access to the Rosenstern intranet. You can get me a computer?” Pidge spoke fast – much faster than Allura could deal with before she finished her tea. Blinking slowly, she tried to make sense of the words, but they jumbled about in her head until only gibberish remained.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” She sipped her tea, relying on the caffeine to relieve her drowsiness. Pidge lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Is there a way you can get me onto the Rosenstern intranet?” Allura had to think for a moment before answering. Facts were evading her this morning, as well as anything else that she needed to use her brain for. It took actual effort to recall the information Pidge had been requesting.

“My school laptop can connect to the intranet through a VPN,” she finally said, speaking as if she were the one asking the question.

“Good,” Pidge said, turning to his laptop and typing rapidly, his fingers flying across the keys. Every so often, he would mumble to himself and type even quicker than what she had previously assumed was humanly possible.

He wasn’t dressed in a Garrison uniform as she had been expecting, so it had taken her an embarrassingly long time to find him in the café. With round glasses perched precariously on his nose and unkempt brown hair, Pidge didn’t look anything like she thought he would. He was a tiny boy, short and skinny, and younger than her by a few years, at least.

That was why Hunk was there, she supposed – to act as a bodyguard in case a client decided to get violent for some reason or another. Older, larger, and much more intimidating than Pidge, Hunk sat to Allura’s left, a content expression on his face as he drank his latte. While he looked like he could crush someone’s head with one hand, he was friendly and relaxed. As Pidge led the consultation, Hunk listened absentmindedly, taking in the sights and smells of the café.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Lance, though, she didn’t understand the purpose of. Before he opened his mouth, she might have considered his blue eyes and sly smile endearing, but he had a bad habit of interrupting her and Pidge’s conversation with some witty, flirtatious remark that she promptly ignored. Any other day and she might have been flattered as well as annoyed, but she was too tired to feel anything other than a growing irritation.

“Do you mean to suggest that I am a fallen angel doomed to live out the rest of my life in hell, cast out of heaven by God because I followed Lucifer in his failed rebellion?” She glared at Lance as his mouth fell open.

Pleased with herself, she took a large gulp of her tea and checked her phone again. No reply from her father. She had sent him a text message hours ago.   

“Hunk, what do you study at the Garrison?” she asked. She needed noise to mask the sounds of Pidge’s typing. Each click of the keyboard echoed through her head like a gunshot.

“I’m in the engineering stream,” he said. “I specialize in mechanics, but I also do a lot on the electric side.” Allura perked up.

“Really?” she exclaimed. “I have a friend who wants to become an engineer, but she’s from Balmera and she’s never actually been exposed to anything other than theory.”

Hunk knew exactly what she was suggesting. “If she wants to, we can all meet up for lunch or something and I can give her some advice. I’m an apprentice at the Garrison, so I do a lot of hands-on work, whether it’s design or assembly. Here, I’ll give you my number.”

“Thank you,” Allura said, adding him as a contact. “She would appreciate it.” Well, Allura hoped that she would. At first, Shay would probably be shy, but Allura was sure she would open up again.

“I’m training to be a fighter pilot,” Lance chimed in. “Top of the class, I’ve heard Commander Iverson say.” He ended the statement with a wink.

Pidge snorted. “Top of the class in mission failures.” Lance opened his mouth to retort, but Pidge continued. “I can bring up the data right here. Let’s see. Our team has a 55% success rate.”

“You’re accessing the Garrison’s system right now?” Dramatically, Lance threw his hands up in the air. “That’s not fair!” Pidge only smirked.

“Wait, you can hack into the Garrison’s computer system?” Allura asked, bewildered and impressed. “You can get past military-grade protections?” After adjusting his glasses, Pidge shrugged.

“Yes,” Pidge replied. “I’ve been able to get in for years, and since you're paying me to commit an illegal activity, I trust you to keep it quiet.”

Allura knew she shouldn’t ask the question bubbling up inside her, but she couldn’t help herself. “Can you access student files?” This was an invasion of privacy, and it was so wrong. But she had to know.

“That’s easy,” Pidge said. “Who are you looking for?”

“Keith Kogane.” Saying his name exhausted her. Two days ago, Keith had run out of her house and her life. She didn’t blame him.

Even after screaming at Kolivan, she didn’t feel any better. A project. That was all Keith thought he meant to her.

As he drove away, she recognized that it was a bitter end to something. She didn’t know what, but whatever it was becoming had been broken, probably beyond repair. And that...hurt. More than she wanted it to.

Now she was ready to see her revenge against Lotor play out, which should have been the perfect distraction. Pidge was more than capable of doing what she needed to have done. Everything was set in motion. She should have been happy, or excited, but instead all she felt was apathy.

“I have him right here,” Pidge said, scanning the laptop screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Allura saw Lance cross his arms and slump into his chair. He muttered something to himself, so low that she couldn’t make it out.

“Entered the Garrison when he was thirteen years old,” Pidge mumbled as he scrolled through the data. “State’s his legal guardian. Fighter pilot in training.”

“Holy shit.” Pidge’s eyes flared. “Look at this.” Sliding from her chair, Allura gave in to her rampaging curiosity and stood behind Pidge.

“They had him doing Garrison test flights when he was sixteen, way out at Base 35.” Pidge furrowed his brow. “He was set to fly his first fighter jet solo the day he turned eighteen. That can’t be right.”

“Is that even legal?” Hunk asked, his latte forgotten. He and Lance crowded behind her, eager to get a glimpse of the screen.

“Technically,” Pidge said. “But it breaks standard protocol in every way. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“He can fly a plane, so what?” Lance said, frowning. “It’s not that amazing.”

“It kind of is. See those figures?” Hunk pointed to a table on the bottom right of the screen. “This Keith guy scored in the 99th percentile on almost every aptitude he was tested for. Reaction time. G-force tolerance. Spatial awareness. Coordination. Technical knowledge. Communication was his lowest score, and even then it was in an acceptable range.”

That explained how he could drive her car so well. But it also opened up a host of other questions. “Why isn’t he there anymore? It looks like he was heading towards a bright career in the military.” Certainly, it was a better option than being homeless.

“It says here that he was expelled for disciplinary reasons.” Pidge clicked the mouse a few times in rapid succession, then sighed in frustration. “Damn. It’ll take me half an hour to break into this part of the file.”

“You don’t need to,” Lance snapped. “Everyone knows that he threw a psycho fit in Thermophysics and they booted him.”

“What do you mean by that?” Allura asked. Her blood ran cold.  

“Commander Iverson himself interrupted the class to debrief the older students about the Kerberos mission and address all the rumours flying around. At some point Keith freaked out and fought with Iverson in front of the entire class. I don’t know exactly what he said, but he yelled so loud that people could hear him at the end of the hallway. He left the room, disobeying Iverson’s direct order, and slammed the door so hard it broke.”

“There had to have been a reason for him to get so angry,” Allura said, trying to convince herself that was the truth. “Why else would he jeopardize his future?”  

“He couldn’t control himself and threw a ridiculous temper tantrum over nothing,” Lance said. “I think that’s all there is to it, honestly.”

Pursing her lips, Allura considered Lance’s point. Keith was quick to anger – she had figured out that much from the other day, but she couldn’t see him acting on it without good motivation. But what did she know about him, really? Absolutely nothing. She definitely didn’t know enough to start making excuses for his past behaviour.

“Thank you, Pidge,” she said, ending the consultation curtly. Thinking about Keith was making her chest ache. She reached into her purse and brought her wallet out. “You wanted half of your fee now, correct?”

“Yes, please.” After she gave Pidge the stack of bills, he counted them, nodding in satisfaction when he was done.

“So you’ll come to my house in two weeks, after exams, and I’ll give you access to Rosenstern’s intranet.” Her father still wouldn’t be home by then. She wondered if he had finally texted her back.  

Pidge gave her a mock-salute. “I’ll be there.”

“Lance, Hunk, come over too,” she said. “Our pool hasn’t been used in forever. You can go swimming while Pidge and I work.” They accepted eagerly.

Before everyone went their separate ways, Allura checked her phone. There was nothing from her father. Not even a simple acknowledgement that he had received her text. Worry caused her heart to start hammering. Something had to be wrong. He would never ignore her otherwise.

As she walked through the door and out onto the street, Allura clenched her trembling hands tight. She had to get to Voltron. She had to see if he was okay.

“Allura,” Lance called from behind, “do you have a map?” She turned around.

“No, but I have a GPS on my phone,” she said. “Where do you-.”

“Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.” It was so absurd that she had to laugh, some of her tension dissipating. He waved goodbye with a wry smile. Allura rolled her eyes and returned it.

~

She braked with a jolt, bringing her car to a stop in priority parking. Fumbling through her purse for her pass, she barged into the lobby. After acknowledging surprised greetings with a light nod, her pass green-lighted her through the doors and into the elevator, where she punched the button for the 60th floor.

The elevator rose like molasses, and her fingers hurt from clenching and unclenching them in impatience. When the elevator finally dinged, she wanted to pry open the doors with her bare hands. She rushed past Vera, her father’s executive assistant, and banged through the door to his office.

And he was just sitting there, a report in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. He looked up in mild surprise, smiling brightly once he saw it was her. Her shoulders sagged in relief, but then she realized that he had been purposely ignoring her for hours.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” she said. “I thought something had happened, and-.”

“I’m perfectly fine, darling,” he assured her, reading the report as they spoke.

“Then why didn’t you reply?” She tried to hide how upset she was, but he knew better. 

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Allura. I’ve been busy.”

“It takes five seconds to send me a text.” She was speaking through clenched teeth. “I haven’t seen you in almost a week and now you’re going to stop communicating with me altogether?”

“Allura, that’s not the case.” He was using his strict voice. “I am busy with the Balmera acquisition, as you know. You are fully capable of being independent, and I trust you to understand why I’m doing all that I am right now. This deal _has_ to go through.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Her voice was getting louder and louder with each word. “Balmera Gold doesn’t matter at all. Voltron is diversified enough; you don’t need it. You’re stressed out for nothing. You’re barely sleeping for nothing. You’re getting headaches for nothing.”

“I expect you to inherit this company one day, Allura.” He stood up, leaning over his desk. “Hopefully by then you’ll understand how to run one. But for now, please leave it to me.”

“Fine,” she shouted. “Don’t come home then. Don’t bother yourself by talking to me.” His face fell, making the bags under his eyes even more prominent. “I don’t care.”

She was out the door before he had a chance to reply. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she swept her hair in front of her face to hide them. Anger, sadness, frustration, she felt them all as she stalked towards the elevator.

Slamming into a body, she recoiled. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to disguise her quaking voice. Sniffling, she moved to go around the person, but they grabbed her shoulders gently.

“He loves you, Allura.” She looked up to see Zarkon standing tall above her, concern written across his stern, wrinkled features. Unable to stop herself, she cried even harder and he drew her into a comforting embrace. She had known Zarkon since she was born, and he was as close to being her second father as anyone could ever be.

“You heard all of that?” she blubbered.

“He’s dealing with an enormous amount of stress. You know he doesn’t mean it.” He patted her head. “I heard about your breakup with Lotor. No matter what happens, I want you to know that you’re always welcome in our home.” She wished she could accept the offer.

Lotor. Kolivan. Keith. Her father. Everything was going wrong, and she didn’t know how to fix any of it. So she cried until her tears dried up. And when she got home, she put on her gloves and beat her punching bag until her hands went numb.


	7. Murphy's Law Pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finding Home reached 1000 hits this past weekend, so I wanted to say thank you to every single reader! Seeing everyone's comments and speculation makes my day. (On a separate note, this chapter is basically 3x shorter than what I wanted it to be, but I've been the sickest I've been in years this past week, so I'm still in the process of writing the rest. It's coming, don't worry.)

Keith leaned into the side of the dumpster, screwing his eyes shut and waiting for sleep to come. The metal was hard and uncomfortable, even with his hood cushioning the side of his head. Tucking his legs tighter to his chest, he sighed.

If he was smart, he would be at the garage, relishing the heat and the security that came with walls, a roof, and a locked door. But he had stayed there for almost half a week already, and the more he stayed, the more likely it was that he would be discovered.

If the weather got really bad he would take that risk, but only then. Though, for the first time ever, he was dreading going back. Thace had terrified him with his threats and his deranged talk of the Blades, and the more he thought about it, the more fear built up inside him, brick by brick. The only pinprick of hope, the only solace he had was his birthday.

Five days, and he would be eighteen. Then he wouldn’t have to make a home out of Fairbanks anymore. Freedom was just within his grasp.

He could start over, for real this time. He could get a job. Maybe as a waiter, or a labourer, or anything, really. He could get an apartment. A small one, of course, but a small one was all he needed.

Voices echoed from the end of the alley, and he worked to make himself unnoticeable. He hid his face in his knees, putting on a show of looking as miserable as he felt. He was no one to any strangers passing by. Just an unlucky kid with empty pockets.

“Here he is.” Keith looked up just as a flashlight beamed at his face, blinding him.

He let out a startled grunt as he clenched his eyes shut and brought his arms up to block the harsh glare. White spots danced behind his eyelids. Gloved hands yanked him to his feet, and he didn’t even have a chance to try and break free before the first punch came.

The fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. Winded, he dragged in a gasping breath. The next punch hit him in the same spot.

He doubled over, bile rising in his throat. When he opened his eyes, he could only see the bright light. When he tried to speak, a wordless rasp was all that passed through his lips.

“The blade will cut, Kogane,” a man said, his voice unfamiliar. A punch landed on his cheek, and his head whipped to the side.

“The blade will draw blood.” A different voice. A punch to his other cheek.

“The blade will flay skin from bone.” A third voice. Blows rained on him from all angles, hitting his chest, his back, his face.

“The blade is all.” A fourth voice. Searing pain made him scream as a knife pierced through the leather of his jacket and stabbed into his shoulder.

He screamed as the knife pushed deeper. He screamed as it twisted. He screamed as it dragged down his shoulder blade.

The knife was ripped from his flesh. Blood gushed out of the wound, warm and wet as it soaked his clothing. The hands restraining him let go, and he fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder.

A boot hit the side of his head, sending him crashing to the ground. A kick to the stomach made him vomit. One more kick and the flashlight was turned off.

“The blade waits.” He couldn’t see anything, the afterimage of the light burned into his retinas. Formless shadows departed in silence, leaving him alone.

He curled on the ground, retching and coughing up blood. Pain that he couldn’t begin to fathom radiated from his shoulder, setting his whole body on fire. The wound was bleeding too much. Already, he could feel it flowing down his back, the fabric of his t-shirt and sweater saturated with blood.

The Blades had finally exacted their revenge for his refusal. He had been stupid to think that they wouldn’t bother with him. Now, he was paying the price for his naivety – in full.

His body ached in too many places to count. Everything hurt. All he wanted was to close his eyes and slip into oblivion. Maybe he would wake, maybe he wouldn’t, but at least the pain would stop.

The thought of dying shocked him into moving. With his good arm, he crawled to the dumpster and pulled himself up to stand on trembling legs. No, he wouldn’t let it end like this.

Death had been lurking over his head since he was five, since the day he left the cemetery, his tiny hand in Laura’s. She was the reaper sent to strike him down, her scythe held high over his neck, poised to fall at any whim. Every minute of every day he fought back against her. If he died right now, his death would be on Laura’s hands, and he would not let her claim that victory over him.

He reached into the new tear on his jacket and grabbed his t-shirt, bunching it in his hand and pressing it against the deepest part of the cut, hoping that it would staunch some of the blood flow. The garage was close, only a few blocks away. He had to make it there.

Holding his shoulder, he limped towards his destination, sucking in shallow breaths. If he called an ambulance, he would have to go to a hospital. Once he was in a hospital, Laura, as his caseworker, would be notified.

Just the idea of seeing her made him feel like he was a child again, five years old and wailing for a father who would never come home. His fear amplified the injuries ravaging his body, making each step last for eternity. Choking back a sob, he lurched forward.

He had escaped her once. He would do it again. He _had to_.

His hand shook with an uncontrollable tremor as he tried to unlock the garage door, missing the lock more than once and scraping the key against the door handle. Finally, he jammed the key in, turned it, and the lock clicked open. He stumbled into the garage, not bothering to close the door behind him.

The phone was sitting on the kitchen counter, daring him to use it. He grabbed it with his wounded arm, dripping blood onto the linoleum tiles with the movement. And still, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the buttons.

 _Laura_. He was bleeding out. _Laura_. He was going to die.

Spitting blood onto the floor, he took a deep breath, steadied his quivering fingers, and dialled 9-1-1.


	8. Laura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make everyone aware, there are references to self-harm and child abuse in this chapter.

**Day One**

 

A pen was scrawling across paper, the ink flowing smooth and unencumbered. The sound barely reached Keith, but he could still recognize the light scratch of her large, cursive loops, the harsh thud as she ended each sentence by stabbing her pen down. He was paralyzed as he listened, knowing that he was caged with no way out.

His whole body felt heavy, as if rocks were roped around his torso and tied to his every extremity. Already, he was sinking below the waves, drowning as she watched with disinterest. Once again, his life belonged to Laura. Once again, she would leave him in ruins.

She had everything, and he had nothing. He would always have nothing.

Dull pain inflamed his shoulder, growing stronger the more he tried to force himself into awareness. His head ached to the point that it made him nauseous. But he was still breathing. Before he had passed out in the ambulance, he wasn’t sure if he was going to survive past midnight.

He cracked his eyes open, seeing a white ceiling above him. His right eye was swollen and watery from the kick to his head. A single tear trailed down his cheek, the tender flesh irritated from the slight movement of his eyelid.

When he tried to reach up and brush the tear away, his hand didn’t move. Then he looked down and saw the restraints locking him to the hospital bed. Fetters were clamped around both of his wrists and both of his ankles. A wide band was strapped over his chest, ensuring that he was truly immobile.

Panic gripped him. He tugged against the restraints and kicked his legs out, achieving nothing. The pain of each movement made him whimper, but he ignored it. Writhing, twisting, he tried desperately to free himself.

“It’s for your own good, Keith.” Laura’s monotone voice chilled him to the bone. “We can’t let you hurt yourself again. I know you can’t help it, but the hospital staff and I have a responsibility to keep you safe.”

“What?” Nothing she said made any sense. He had to glance at her then, and recoiled when her flat gaze met his. No emotion showed on her face, but the look in her eyes was one that he was all too familiar with.

She was going to hurt him. She was going to exult in it. “No,” he breathed, begging even when it had never worked before. “Whatever it is, you can’t.”

She tapped the clipboard sitting on her lap, her red nails contrasting with the gray and white of her suit. An air of revulsion settled over her as she scanned his face, scrutinizing his disparate expression.

Like always, her gray hair was done up in a tight bun, streaks of white throughout. Rectangular glasses framed her blue eyes. Over the years, her wrinkles had become more numerous. Even when he was five, she hadn’t been young. The ones around her mouth were especially pronounced when she pursed her lips.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She adjusted her glasses and sighed. “You’re a danger to yourself, Keith.” Horror was dawning on him, and the fear of his unknown punishment made him shrink back into the bed. His heartbeat pounded so loud he could hear it in his ears.

“You can’t keep me here,” he said, his voice weak and pitiful. “I’ll be eighteen soon, and you can’t keep me. You’re not allowed to.”

She sneered. “Stabbing yourself was the inciting incident. Inflicting such injuries on yourself for attention - it’s just not healthy. I’ve already filled out the paperwork, and the psychiatrist will be here to sign it a few days from now.”

“What have you done?” He tried to yell, but it came out as a cracked whisper.

“Someone with your condition can’t be expected to take care of themselves. Simply put, you’re not able to function on your own. You are a danger to yourself, and you are a danger to others.”

“I can take care of myself,” he argued, “I’ve been-.” The realization struck him. “You never reported that I was missing.” Her eyebrow didn’t even twitch. “You faked everything with the agency. The money kept going to the Shaws and you took a cut of it.”

She spoke as if he hadn’t said a word. “You have been declared mentally incompetent. As you have no living relatives, you are a ward of the state and you will be under my care for the foreseeable future. After your injuries have healed sufficiently, you will be transferred to the Royal Institute for Mental Health.”

There it was. His death sentence. His birthday didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.

“I didn’t hurt myself,” he yelled, desperacy overriding his fear of her. “I was assaulted. I was stabbed.”

“The stab wound was too clean to come from a violent attack,” she said, speaking slowly, as if he was a child again. “It was too deliberate. You wouldn’t have died from it before you were able to seek medical help.”

“The doctors know,” he raved. “They know. They won’t let you do this.”

“Given your lengthy history of violence, they’ve had to concur with my evaluation.” She clicked her pen against the clipboard, the sound drilling into his skull. "They've seen the scars on your hands."

"Those are just from practicing with my knife, I would never cut myself deliberately."

“When you were ten, this same self-harming behaviour landed you in the hospital. The Andersons are viable witnesses, and-.”

“They were hitting me!” he screamed, his voice breaking. Memories that he had worked hard to bury deep resurfaced, making him hyperventilate. “They were hitting me and you knew, and you didn’t do anything!”

She shook her head in exasperation. “Really,” she huffed, “you’ve always been such a liar.”

His throat was raw, but he shouted anyways, thrashing against his restraints. “Let me out!” Through it all, she sat, clicking her pen rhythmically in boredom.

“Why do you hate me?” he finally sobbed, all of his efforts useless. Tears flowed down his face, dripping from his chin. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. 

Wearing a cold mask, she stood up and walked to his bedside, her heels clicking menacingly against the floor. “You had such a sullen, little face,” she whispered, leaning over him. Her lip curled up in disgust. “You still do.”

Wordless screams poured from his mouth, fragmented and unending. The restraints dug into his flesh and he started to bleed, but he fought anyways, because if he didn’t, his life was over.

As the nurses rushed into the room and held him down, he accepted that Laura had won. No matter what he did, she always won. The sedative spread through his veins, and he looked down at his hands before he let himself fall unconscious.

Dead hands, attached to a dead man. A dead boy, really. His fingers went blurry, and then everything went black.

 

**Day Two**

 

No one listened. He pleaded. He asked. He shouted. He shrieked.

They all ignored him. Looks full of disdain, of pity, of irritation – he received them all.

Laura never showed her face. At least he had one thing to be grateful for.

At what he assumed was halfway through the day, he stopped altogether. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about nothing. His room didn’t have a window, and time passed without measure. Eventually he started counting the seconds in his head, and minutes turned into hours.

White walls, white floors, white ceilings. Even his hospital gown was white. The chairs were a hideous green, though, and the restraints keeping him in place were black.

He assumed he was in the psychiatric ward, but he couldn’t be sure. At least his door wasn’t locked, which would aid in any escape attempt. There was no possible way he was moving from the bed, though. He was strapped down tight, the material almost cutting into his skin.

Gauze had been wrapped around his wrists and ankles, in case he decided to hurt himself again. All he had done yesterday was play into Laura’s show and give the staff a visceral example of all that she had been telling them, all that his medical records alluded to. If they weren’t convinced that he couldn’t control his behaviour before, they were now.

But they didn’t know Laura. They didn’t know what foster homes she had made him suffer through, what she had ignored at the orphanage. They didn’t know about the abuse, the days gone without food, the days locked in the closet. And they would never believe him, because they believed her.

Shiro wasn’t here to save him this time. He had wasted what was left of Shiro’s protection, anyways, when he had gotten himself expelled from the Garrison. If he wanted to get free, he would have to do it himself.

Laura would not be the end of him. He wouldn’t allow her to be.

He pulled against the restraints, testing them again. The material they were made out of was too strong to tear through, and even with his skinny wrists, they were tied too tight for him to wriggle his hands free. Somehow, he had to loosen them.

For the rest of the day, he tested any idea that came into his head. He rocked the bed back and forth, but it didn’t move a fraction of an inch. He stretched his fingers over the side of the bed as far as they could go, but he couldn’t reach where the strap connected to the frame.

Later, the door creaked open and his eyes fastened to it. A portly female nurse came through, with curly, red hair that was starting to gray. She wore a pleasant expression, her mouth turned up in slight smile. Immediately, her eyes latched onto him with interest.

He matched her stare as she walked over to the side of the bed. A few times a day, a nurse had been sent to check his stitches and feed him. This one came for the stitches, pulling the shoulder of his hospital gown down and removing the wrappings covering the healing wound.

They came off stained with old, brown blood, and she shook her head before throwing them in the trash and rifling through a drawer to find clean ones. He sucked in a breath when she dabbed the stitches with antiseptic wipes.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know this hurts.” It was the first time anyone had spoken to him the whole day.

“No,” he sputtered, “it’s fine. Thanks.” She hummed as she wound the new wrappings around his shoulder, and he found himself relaxing.

When she finished, she stepped back and crossed her arms. With narrowed eyes, she studied his face. “You’re Rick Kogane’s kid, aren’t you?”

He could only blink in astonishment, which she took as confirmation. “I recognized the last name,” she explained. “I’m Nancy Carver. Jim, my late husband, worked with your dad at the steel plant.”

“He did?” It had been years since anyone had mentioned his dad to him. The whole city had read the newspaper articles about the tragedy, but Keith had never met a total stranger who actually knew him.

“They were on the same assembly line together. The accident...” She looked to the ground, then met his eyes again. “He was right there when it happened. He could barely sleep for months afterwards. We went to the funeral, you know. I saw you there, and I always wondered what was going to happen to you.”

“Now you know,” he said bitterly. In his mind, he was elsewhere. Standing in front of his school, he watched as his dad drove away in his truck, waving until he was out of sight. That was the last time, the last glimpse, the last memory.

“He was a kind man, one who deserved better.” Keith nodded in agreement, tilting his head back and banishing the tears that were starting to form. “You have his eyes.”

Frowning, Keith stared up at her. “They’re not the same colour,” she elaborated, “but they’re his.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept silent. Even when he was younger, he remembered people remarking that he looked so unlike his father. Maybe, with age, the stark differences had lessened.

To his shock, she reached over and undid the restraints binding his chest, then the ones on his wrists, and finally, the ones on his ankles. He didn’t move, and she gestured with her chin.

“Stand up and take a walk around the room, if it doesn’t hurt too much.”

Guarded but grateful, he slipped off the bed with sore muscles and stiff limbs. His legs wobbled once he was on his feet, but he was able to stand unassisted. Nancy watched him carefully, her eyes following his every movement.

“Go on. Stretch your legs,” she said, fire burning in her hard gaze. “And when you’re done, you’re going to tell me the truth about who beat you half to death.”

 

**Day Three**

 

Blood still stained his clothes, but the dried patches blended right in with the black of his hoodie. He pulled his jacket on, wincing at the sting of pain that came with the rotation of his shoulder. Finally, he brushed his bangs in front of his face, hiding his black eye.

Sometime in the night, a patient down the hallway was expected to die. Nancy had said the whole floor would be hectic, with family coming in and out. If he played it right, he could slip past security and be out of the hospital within five minutes.

Misfortune had gotten him into this situation, now fortune was getting him out. Nancy had listened, and she understood why he had to escape the hospital. She had told him what to do, while her face was flushed crimson and her fists were shaking with anger.

As the nurse assigned to him for the night, only Nancy was scheduled to check on him. Every once in a while, she popped in and informed him of how everything was going. He had told her that he was worried she would get in trouble once it was discovered that he had run away on her watch.

She had shrugged and said that she would blame the day nurses for tying the restraints too loose, who in turn would blame her, and when she denied any wrongdoing, they would blame each other. In the end, everyone would be to blame and no one would receive any of it. That had made him feel better.

The ruckus started while he wasn’t paying much attention. “Code Blue.” Nancy’s voice echoed over the intercom. “I repeat, this is a Code Blue.” Then he heard running, and shouting, and equipment wheeling across the floor.

Ten minutes later, there was another surge of commotion. A mix of hysterical voices and sobs filled the hallway as footsteps passed by his room. Ten minutes after that, he turned the handle and cracked the door open.

He peered through the thin sliver, seeing and hearing nothing. His heart jumped when he opened it fully and a squealing noise interrupted the silence. As fast as he could, he slipped through the door and closed it again.

Putting on an act of grief, he slouched and looked to the ground. His bangs would cover most of his features at this angle, and while he doubted anyone would recognize him either way, he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible.

There was a nurse at the end of the hallway, sitting behind a desk and monitoring the exit to the ward. He was burly, with a thick brow and a slight frown. Thankfully, Keith had never seen him before.

Keith walked up to him casually, and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I can come back in, right?” he asked. “I just need some air.”

The nurse turned his attention to Keith and nodded. “Just knock on the door.” He tapped his computer monitor. “I’ll recognize you on the camera.”

“Thanks,” Keith breathed, ensuring that his voice quaked.

“Take your time,” the nurse continued. “My grandfather died last year, and it took me a while to process it. I know how it feels to lose a close family member.” Keith tried not to fidget. This conversation was already going on too long.

“I-I,” he stuttered, covering his face with a hand. “It doesn’t seem real.” He faked quiet sobs, making his shoulders shake. “I just need a cigarette.”

“Don’t we all,” the nurse said wistfully. “Have as many as you want, I’ll be here all night to let you back in.”

With a nod, Keith pushed through the door and found himself in another white hallway. Signs directed him to the elevator. Every single one of his nerves seemed to be firing as he made his way through the maze of corridors, passing by doctors and nurses dressed in scrubs and the occasional person wearing street clothes.

Once he reached the lobby, people brushed by him without a second glance. He blended into the crowd and walked through the front doors. And he was free.

He almost shouted in joy, but a wave of dizziness came close to knocking him off his feet. Stumbling, he caught a bicycle rack and balanced himself, concentrating on breathing in and out. The painkillers hadn’t left his system yet, making him woozy, and exerting himself so much had drained any energy that he had left.

A sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, and he realized that all of his recent good luck had come to an end. He clutched his shoulder, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He took a trial step and barely managed to stay upright.

Shuffling down the street, he only managed to make it one block before throwing up into a trash can lining the sidewalk. Nausea made his head spin and he gripped the metal, chest heaving. Cold sweat was dripping down his forehead and dampening his hair.

It took a while to recover from being stabbed and beaten to a pulp, apparently. He hadn’t had the time to rest properly. But he couldn’t afford to stay still. Nancy had given him half an hour before she alerted the rest of the hospital to his disappearance.

He wiped his mouth and kept walking. All of this effort couldn’t be for nothing. If she caught him defying her again, there was no way Laura would ever release him. Looking around, he got his bearings and thought of where to go.

The garage was impossible. The ambulance had found him there, and it would be the first place that anyone would look. Fairbanks was also out of the question. He had nowhere to hide.

Except...The Hills was only ten minutes away. He tried to shake the thought, his cheeks colouring in shame as he remembered yelling at Allura.

None of it had been her fault, but he had taken his anger out on her anyways. His knife, his father, his mother – Kolivan had been delving deep into issues that had haunted him for his entire life. He didn’t have any answers to Kolivan’s questions. That’s what had enraged him the most.

If Allura refused to let him through the door, he would understand. But she was kind, and she was compassionate, and he would be taking advantage of that, he knew, if he showed up at her house. There was nowhere else for him to go. He was still a stranger to her, but he had no other option.

Every light was blurry once he reached the gatehouse guarding the entrance to the estate. Using every ounce of his will, he stood tall and let the hand supporting his shoulder drop.

“Hey, Dave,” he said, managing a weak grin. “Can you let Allura know that I’m here?”

“Keith!” Dave exclaimed, opening the gates immediately. Last time Keith visited, he learned that Dave was a motorcycle enthusiast, and the man had become quite smitten with Red. “Go ahead. You’re allowed through anytime.” Keith swallowed his surprise.

“Can you still let Allura know that I’m coming? She’s not expecting me.” The last thing he wanted was for her father to open the door and to see him, ragged and ill as he was.

“Sure, sure.” Dave picked up a phone. “No bike tonight?”

Keith forced a wide smile that he hoped wasn’t ghastly. “I thought it was a beautiful night for a walk.”

“It sure is,” Dave sighed, waving Keith through.

He almost dropped to his knees and started crawling down the driveway. Each step made his head whirl. His arm felt like it was going to detach from his shoulder.

Right before he knocked on the door, it opened and she was there. Her hair was ruffled with sleep, and her pink pyjamas were wrinkled, but her wide eyes were fully awake. 

“Keith,” she breathed. “What’s wrong?” The world spun. He crumpled.

She caught him around his waist before he could hit the floor, pulling his body into hers with ease. And then there were arms and warmth and safety, and he let his head fall forward to rest in the crook of her neck.

“I need your help,” he whispered. Every second, he grew fainter. “No hospital.” The last thing he felt was her arms as they tightened around him.

 

**Day Four**

 

Birds were chirping in the distance, their distinct calls harmonizing with one another. The melodic sound eased Keith into awareness. He felt like he was floating on a cloud.

All of his aches and pains barely registered. The pillow cushioning his head was soft, and his body sunk into the plush mattress underneath him. A fine sheet covered him, light and warm.

His chest was bare, and he was wearing what felt like baggy sweatpants. A cloth was wrapped around his shoulder, keeping his stitches from getting caught on anything. He briefly wondered how she had managed to undress him, but decided that it didn’t matter. 

With a slight groan, he opened his eyes. Sunlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the whole room. In the midst of all the gleaming extravagance, she captured his attention first.

Allura’s upper body rested on the bed, her head buried in her arms. She must have dragged a chair over to the side of the bed to keep watch over him, and then promptly fallen asleep. He could hear her slow, even breaths.

Thick and lustrous, her hair splayed out over the bed, hiding her face. The strands spread out across the pink sheet covering his knees, like tendrils of white smoke drifting into the sky. And for one, uncontrollable moment, he wanted to touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

He lifted his arm, and roared at the flame of pain that ignited in his shoulder. With a jerk, she sat up straight, instantly alert. She leapt from the chair and leaned over him.

“Is it your shoulder?” she asked, her lips pressed into a serious line. Nodding, he clenched his eyes shut.

“The stitches were bleeding when you arrived,” she informed him, pulling down the sheet to his waist and unwrapping the cloth so she could take a look at his wound. “When I washed them last night, there were no signs of infection, so that’s good.”

He grunted in agreement. She inspected his shoulder, her gentle fingers prodding his skin clinically. “I looked up injuries similar to yours last night, and I think you just need to rest it.”

Already, the pain was receding. “Whatever you say, doctor,” he quipped. She sighed in response.

“What happened to you, Keith?” Her hand left his shoulder to brush his hair from his forehead and feel for his temperature, and his awareness of everything else faded. She traced the cut on his eyebrow, and trailed her fingertips over the tender skin of his black eye before removing her hand. He almost whined at the loss of contact.

“Allura, I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I know I’m not your project, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“That’s not important now,” she said. “I need to know what happened to you. Tell me, please.”

After taking a deep breath, he started. “There’s probably a news bulletin going around about a mentally ill teenager that escaped from a hospital last night...”

He didn’t tell her everything. He could never bring himself to tell anyone everything, but he told her enough. The stabbing. Laura. Nancy.

When he finished, a severe expression flashed across her face, one that he couldn’t name. Just as soon as it had come, it was gone. “Let me get you a glass of water,” she said, asking no questions. He appreciated that. “Oh, and there’s pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry?”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he blurted out, before she left his bedside. “For helping me. Without you, Laura would own me. I think I’d rather be dead.”

Her lips turned up in a small, sad smile. “You’ll be safe here,” she said. “I promise.” Without a doubt, he believed her.   


	9. Lady Justice

Allura quietly set a glass of water and a box of granola bars on the side table, just in case Keith woke up while she was gone. Pale and gaunt, he looked so fragile lying on her bed - made of porcelain one touch away from shattering. The bruise staining his eye was still dark, the edge tinged with yellow. The cut bisecting his eyebrow would likely leave a scar behind.

On his stomach, the purple-gray, splotchy bruises were healing as well as could be expected. The stitches on his shoulder were still at least a week from being removed, but his wound was starting to close up. She had read enough about stabbing injuries over the last day that she was fairly confident with her assessment of his health. Besides, in a few hours he wouldn’t have to fear going to a hospital if he got any worse.

Since yesterday, he had been sleeping soundly – only waking up to eat and drink, and then promptly falling asleep again. She was past being worried, instead relieved that he was finally able to rest. After all that he had been through, he needed time to recuperate.

She had no such needs, no reason to sit around the house while a monster was roaming free. A single-minded purpose consumed her every thought. Something inside her was panting for destruction, and she was going to give into it.

Leaving Keith to his dreams, or nightmares, she closed the door behind her and stalked to her car.

The drive was a short one. Parked outside of the agency, she got Vera, her father’s assistant, on the phone and confirmed that the money was ready to be transferred at one call from her. Then she removed her sunglasses and strutted into the lobby of Family First Foster Care.

The place was rundown and patched up, with shining floors and yellowing ceilings – a typical non-profit affair. Money was being spent on the children instead of the building. She got the message. Meaningless pictures of flowers with hollow quotations underneath decorated the walls, adding a sparse bit of colour to the drab scene.

High on wrath and drunk on vengeance, she reached the front desk and rested her forearms on the counter, smiling as if she and the secretary were old friends. “Good morning. Would Laura happen to be here today?”

Wearing her finest pin-striped suit, Allura knew she looked intimidating and important – someone that anyone in the agency would be loath to keep waiting. The secretary’s mouth dropped open, a telling cue that she recognized Allura for who she was.

“I-I,” the secretary stuttered, before collecting herself. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.” Allura’s voice was saccharine. “But I’m sure she can make time for me.”

“I’ll just give her a short call to let her know.” Before the secretary could pick up the phone, Allura shook her head.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Allura said, waving her hand in dismissal of the action. “I’ll go on ahead. Which office is she in again?”

“The last one on the left,” the secretary replied, biting her lip in uncertainty, but unwilling to offend Allura in any way.

“Thank you very much.” With one last, honeyed smile, Allura made her way down the narrow hall to Laura’s office. The bronze nameplate gleamed on the wall. _Laura Invers_.

Allura paused, listening to the clacking sounds of Laura typing. For one moment, she let Laura unknowingly enjoy her cruelty for the last time, then she entered the office through the open door.

With apathy and an arched eyebrow, Laura looked up at her. When Allura closed the door, however, Laura’s interest increased tenfold. Her thin lips drew into an even thinner line, and her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to guess Allura’s intentions. That almost made her snicker.

“Who are you?” Laura said. She had a bored, uninspiring voice, the tone flat and emotionless. Without answering, Allura blatantly surveyed the old lady, observing her tight bun, the deep lines around her mouth, the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, and the red, lacquered nails. She met Laura’s glare when she was done, with an impassive expression of her own.

“Who are you?” Laura repeated, in the same, bored way.

“I know a boy,” Allura said, taking a step forward.

“How marvelous for you.” If Laura meant for the statement to be sarcastic, the intonation didn’t come through.  

“He was stabbed a few days ago. Ended up in the hospital.” Laura couldn’t disguise the flicker in her pupils. “From what I’ve been told, he was under your care.”

“He _is_ under my care,” Laura said. “Keith Kogane is a mentally unstable individual with antisocial personality disorder and self-harming tendencies.” Allura chuckled darkly, finally breaking Laura’s mask and earning her confusion.

“Listen to me, and listen well.” With a startling, sudden noise, Allura slapped her hands on the desk in front of her and leaned over it, staring Laura down.

“You are going to retract Keith’s falsified psychiatric evaluation,” Allura ordered, leaving no room for negotiation. Fire blazed in her eyes. “You are going to rescind your guardianship of him on his eighteenth birthday. You are going to inform the hospital and the police that Keith has been safely found, and that they do not have to concern themselves with him anymore.” Laura opened her mouth to interrupt, but Allura held up a warning finger.

“You are going to send him the money he is owed every month. You are going to give him any money and any belongings that his father left to him. You are going to give me his knife and his gloves. You are going to leave him alone forever.”

“Excuse me?” Anger had finally crept into Laura’s voice, but Allura wasn’t done.

“If you do not, a substantial donation will be made to Family First Foster Care with the _suggestion_ that you be terminated without a reference. Wherever you go, I will follow you, and you will never hold down a job again.”

“But, h-.” Allura lifted her finger a second time, and Laura clamped her mouth shut.

“I will be monitoring you. You won’t know how, but I will. If I ever hear of you abusing a child again, I will not hesitate to bring the full force of my influence crashing down on your sick, twisted head.” Revulsion and slow terror were cracking Laura’s uninterested facade.

“I do not make idle threats.” Allura’s fingers were digging into the wood of the desk, clenching the edge so hard that it was painful. “I say grovel, you grovel,” she spat. “I say jump, you jump.”

“Test me and you will regret it.” Dumbfounded, Laura nodded in silent incredulity. “I want Keith’s possessions in my hands _right now_. In exactly one hour, I will be back to confirm my previous demands.” 

Laura scurried around the office, dropping things as her fingers quaked. Through it all, Allura stood with her arms crossed over her chest, sneering in displeasure. When she finally had a heavy, dusty cardboard box in her hands, gloves and knife stacked on top, she gave Laura a withering glare.

“One hour,” she warned, before walking out the door. She bade the secretary goodbye with the same, kind smile, and commented on how the agency was doing such a _lovely_ job.

Next, she stopped at 18 Bristol Street, a tiny, brick house in the sprawling suburbs. No lights were on, so she assumed Nancy was sleeping before her night shift at the hospital. With a tiny amount of guilt, she rang the doorbell, listening as it chimed and a dog started barking.

To her surprise, Nancy came to the door a few seconds later. Her hair was frazzled and she had bags under her eyes, but she still looked pleased to see a visitor. “Hello,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Allura. A friend of Keith’s.” Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “I have to talk to you about something.”

Opening the door all the way, Nancy gestured for Allura to enter her home. A fluffy, white dog jumped around Allura’s feet. Laughing, she reached down and let it sniff her hand before petting it on the head.

The living room was cozy, with family pictures on the walls and quilts covering every piece of furniture. An out-dated television was playing a soap opera in the background. Nancy hurried to grab the remote and turned it off. Seating herself on the edge of the couch, Allura folded her hands in her lap and got straight to the point.

“My father’s the CEO of Voltron.” Saying it made her think of him. Ever since their fight last week, they’d been purposely ignoring each other, waiting for the weakest party to crack. Never before had she gone without talking him for more than a day, and his continued silence hurt.

“I recognize you,” Nancy said. Absentmindedly, she petted her little dog lying beside her on the armchair. “I see you or your father in the news about once a week.”

“That makes this easy, then,” Allura said, resting her elbows on her thighs and leaning forward intently. “I want to offer you a job. Voltron owns a private, non-profit health clinic that offers its services to low-income and at-risk patients. We need nurses that are capable and compassionate. The work is hard, but it pays very handsomely, and your pension from the hospital can be transferred over.”

“Are you serious?” Nancy asked, throttled with emotion. “If this is a joke, please don’t drag it on.”

“It is not a joke. The clinic requires a quick one-on-one interview with the head nurse to ensure compatibility and they’ll have to verify your nursing degree, but you’ve worked at a hospital for so long you have the experience they need, and with my personal recommendation, I sincerely believe that you could be working there by next week.”

Sniffling, Nancy tried to blink back tears and failed. She held her face in her hands and bawled. In alarm, Allura moved to comfort her, but Nancy waved her off. “The hospital fired me yesterday,” she blubbered. “Family First Foster Care is suing me for negligence.”

She sobbed so hard her face flushed red. “I knew it would happen. It was worth it. That boy, he didn’t deserve any of it. Nobody deserves what he’s been through. If I didn’t help him, then who am I?”

“You are one of the kindest people I have ever met,” said Allura, doing her best to console Nancy. Without her, Keith wouldn’t have a future. Without her, Laura’s reign of abuse would never have ended. “No one will be suing you. I’ve ensured that.”

“Thank you,” Nancy stammered, trying to choke back her tears. She stood up and beckoned Allura over to her, then hugged her in gratitude. Again and again she professed her thanks, holding Allura until she finally stopped crying.

When she let Allura go, she rubbed her swollen eyes and managed a smile. Her words however, didn’t match her cheerful expression. “Bring that psychopath down, Allura,” she said. “Call it providence, or justice, or revenge, or whatever, but make that asshole the most miserable, remorseful person in the world.” 

Allura smirked. “Where else do you think I was before coming here?”  

~

“Sign it,” Allura ordered. With a scowl, Laura scribbled her signature on the bottom of the psychiatrist’s addendum declaring Keith to be sound of mind, harshly jabbing the point of her pen down after she was done.

“Thank you.” Tucking the collection of papers and the cheque under her arm, Allura studied the office one more time, and took one more glance at Laura’s sour face.

“Don’t forget me,” she said, looking Laura straight in her empty eyes. “I certainly won’t forget you.” And with that, she exited the agency.

Sitting in her car, she took out her phone and called Vera. “Hello, it’s me. Send the donation now. Her last name is Invers. Yes, spelled exactly like that. Be specific and firm. Thank you.” 

~

The whole ride home, Allura smiled so wide that her cheeks hurt. _Pick your battles_. She had certainly chosen well. Laura’s career was over, as it should have been years ago.

As she walked up the stairs to her room, her smile faded when she considered how Keith would react. Since the day he was placed into her care, he had been trying to get away from Laura, and Allura had orchestrated her downfall within two measly hours. She wouldn’t blame him for being upset about how little effort it had taken. It had been none of her business in the first place, and maybe she shouldn’t have done anything without asking him.   

To her surprise, he was awake. As soon as she opened the door, his eyes latched onto the box in her hands.

“I have something for you,” she said, worrying her lip as she set the box down on the bed, right beside him. With a groan, he lifted himself up to a sitting position.

“That’s my knife,” he said, bewildered. “Those are my gloves.”

Using his uninjured arm, he reached out and grabbed the knife, balancing it in his hand. In wonder and gratefulness, he looked up at her. “How?”

“I went to see Laura today,” she admitted. She couldn’t lie about taking his life into her hands. “You’re no longer missing, you’re not ruled mentally incapable, and as soon as you turn eighteen, you’ll be released from the agency.”   

He stared at the knife, unblinking as he processed what she had just said. “Laura will be fired before the day is over. She will never hurt you, or any other child, ever again.” 

Still, no response. Hesitantly, she dropped the papers on his lap. “This is a copy of your entire file. I made her destroy the falsified reports. There’s a cheque too – I didn’t look at the amount – but it’s from your father’s estate. After he died, they sold his assets and put the money in a bank account to be given to you sometime in the future.”

He looked like death – a statue with marble limbs, staring at nothing. “These items are from your father’s old apartment,” she continued, not knowing what else to do. She tapped the box. “They deemed everything in here worthless, apparently, but there could be some heirlooms.”

“What day is it?” he said, his voice low and cracked and shaking.

“Thursday.” He came to life with a start, heavy breaths making his chest heave. With watery eyes, he looked up at the ceiling and laughed so forcefully that it frightened her.

“It’s my birthday,” he croaked, fisting his hands in the sheets and laughing so that he wouldn’t cry. “Thank you,” he continued. “I can never pay you back for this. Never. Nothing is comparable.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured him, desperately thinking of a way to calm his hysteria. He doubled over and clutched his waist, deranged laughter still shattering through the room. Impulsively, she reached out and placed her hands on either side of his face.

“Stop, Keith.” His hair was soft between her fingers, but his skin was ice-cold. “Please.” The sounds froze in his throat, and unearthly silence pervaded the room. Then he gasped and started dragging in air like he had been underwater.

“Happy eighteenth birthday,” she said gently, as his breathing became less and less violent. “We should celebrate it in some way. I can get a cake.”

He started to shake his head in refusal, but then he stopped himself. “Come somewhere with me,” he said. The violet in his irises was particularly noticeable when he made eye contact with her. “You’ll have to drive.”

“Keith,” she warned, letting her hands fall after realizing she was still cradling his face, “you’re recovering.”

“I need to get outside. If I pass out at any point, you can say ‘I told you so’ for the rest of your life.” She didn’t budge. “It’s my birthday,” he reminded her.

“Fine,” she sighed, losing all of her sternness. “Where are we going?”

“A spot in Olkari National Park that my dad used to take me. We have to go off-road to get there. I saw a Jeep the last time I was here; it should work.” He pushed the papers on his lap to the side. As he slid off the bed, he purposely ignored the box. Aside from grabbing his gloves off the top, he didn’t even spare it one glance.

There was something haunted about his rushed movements, and concern made her heart ache for him. He was quiet as they made their way to the garage, but when they hopped into the Jeep, he turned to her.

“Allura, thank you,” he rumbled. “I could never say it enough. You saved me, and I don’t know what I did to deserve your help, but I feel like I’m the luckiest person alive. If there’s any way for me to repay you, I will.”

She held back the goofy grin that threatened to consume her face as she thought of her reply. “You can start by calling this a date,” she said casually.

His mouth fell open in astonishment, only to morph into a sly smile. “It’s a date,” he agreed, rolling down his window and looking out at the yard. “And just so you know, I was hoping you would say something like that.”


	10. First Date

One left turn at Keith’s direction, and the road disappeared. Sparse gravel became tall grass. A scattering of leaves overhead became a ceiling. The Jeep groaned up a hill through heavy brush, thin branches scraping against the windows.

“You’re sure we’re going the right way?” Allura asked, for the fourth - and probably not the last - time. There was nothing even remotely resembling a path in the route Keith was taking them. Getting lost wasn’t something she wanted to accomplish today, so she didn’t blame herself for being nervous as she drove straight into the heart of Olkari National Park. She tightened her grip on the wheel, and, to her dismay, sweat started to bead on her forehead.

“Yes.” Keith’s answer was blunt. He peered ahead through the windshield, leaning forward in his seat and searching for whatever scenery served as the markers leading him to their destination. Rough terrain jostled them back and forth in their seats, and every so often, Keith would let out a muted grunt of pain and discretely cradle his shoulder under the guise of crossing his arms.

That only made her more nervous. An intrusive vision of him passing out and having to be airlifted to a hospital kept playing in her mind, and she was having trouble dismissing the possibility. It was hard to monitor him when the forest floor was so unpredictable. One hidden bump after another jolted the tires and yanked the steering wheel left or right. Each time she had to fight to keep the vehicle on course, and any lapse of attention would very likely end up with her crashing into one of the towering oaks enclosing them in on either side.  

She licked her lips before asking, “So, how do you know how to get to this spot?” When his dad died, Keith had only been five years old. She doubted anybody that young would be able to remember the exact directions so many years later.

“When I was twelve, right before...” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I was living with the Walshes. They’re runners-up to the Andersons for my worst foster parents.”

Dropping his eyes to his lap, he continued. “Let’s just say that they didn’t like to feed me - like the Shaws but even more restrictive. In the morning, they caught me sneaking a slice of bread before school. Just store-bought, cheap, white bread. I ran away before they could punish me and hid from them for a few hours. By that point, it was too late to go to school and I was terrified to go back, so I walked down the highway all the way here.”

Like yesterday, Keith’s story was twisting her stomach into knots. She was furious and horrified and sad, and she wished she could erase it all and give him a new past. One that was happy. One full of love, patience, and kindness. One like hers.

And in one, split second, the fight with her father seemed so petty and ridiculous. She couldn’t believe it had lasted for so long. He had given her the best childhood anyone could ever imagine.

Without her mother, he had done his best. He had homeschooled her until she was old enough to teach the curriculum to herself. No discussion had been off-limits. He had always encouraged her and given her the means to learn about Voltron, as well as anything else that captured her interest. She was lucky to have a father like him.

He loved her. He was only stressed, like Zarkon had explained. After the acquisition was complete, he would be back to himself.

“I didn’t remember exactly how to get there,” Keith said, drawing her attention back to the present, “but my memory of the actual location was etched in my brain. So I wandered around off the trails and ended up deep in the forest. I left notches on the trees with my knife so that I wouldn’t get lost.”

“That’s what you’re looking for right now, isn’t it,” she interrupted. It was clever, she admitted to herself, even if vandalizing trees on a nature reserve was highly illegal. The barest smile passed over his lips, only to fade away.  

“Yes,” he said, “but they’re fresh ones. I know I shouldn’t be doing it, but every few months I come back and mark the path again.”

He picked up where he left off. “Instinct must have led me there. There’s no other explanation for how I found it. For a long time I stayed, sitting and looking out towards the horizon like my dad used to. I had to hitchhike late at night to get back to the Walshes. And when I did they locked me in my closet for sixteen hours.”

“Oh,” she said, wracking her brain to think of a more eloquent response. He spoke as if it was normal. Like all closets were cages and he had just learned to accept it.

“I know you’re thinking about how fucked up I am,” he stated, catching her off guard. He kept staring directly ahead, hiding whatever he was feeling behind a cold exterior.

“No,” she blurted out, almost defensively. “What’s fucked up is what you’ve had to go through.”

“Who even talks about shit like that on a first date?” he said, ignoring her and berating himself further. “Hi, I’m Keith,” he mocked cynically. “I was periodically starved and beaten and locked in closets. Nice to meet you.”

“Well,” she replied curtly, “instead you could start with, ‘Hi, I’m Keith. I saved you from being robbed by lowlifes after your ex-boyfriend threatened to hurt you and forced you out of his car only so that he could return to be your saviour after you got scared.’”

“I didn’t do it to get any favours from you,” he snapped. His features darkened with some unknown emotion. Despite her efforts to stamp it down, her temper sky-rocketed. She braked so hard he hissed when the seatbelt dug into his shoulder.

“What are you really upset about?” she challenged. “Because this isn’t about me.” He met her head-on.

“I don’t know what’s going to be in the box,” he said through clenched teeth. “I don’t know if I’ll remember any of it. What if I don’t? What then? All I have left of my dad are some washed out memories, a jacket, a knife, and Pandora’s box.”

 _Ah_. She should have been able to figure that out herself. “It’s not your fault if you don’t remember,” she reasoned. “You were too young. Nobody would expect you to be able to identify even one thing in that box.”

“That’s just it.” He clutched his hair in his hands, strands sticking out through his fingers. “What if everything in there should have a meaning but I can’t find it? What if to me, it’s only junk?”

“Whatever’s in that box belonged to your father. Could you really call any of it junk?”

“Never,” he said, so quiet she could hardly hear him.

“Then it already has a meaning. You don’t need to give anything in the box one beyond that.” Unconsciously, she reached out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder before stopping herself and letting it drop. If he noticed, he didn’t react.

Instead of speaking, he nodded, hugging his arms tight to his chest. His face was covered by his hair, and she couldn’t see anything of his features. She needed to know what he was thinking, to read what lay in his downcast eyes.

“Talk about something else,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me about your family. Please.”

“The only living relative I have is my father,” she started, driving forward again. If he wanted to listen to her, she could indulge him. “Both of my grandparents on my father’s side were only children that had an only child when they were both over forty years old. They died when I was a toddler, almost exactly one year apart. My mother was adopted, and her adoptive parents died in a car crash long before I was born.”

The difficult part was usually next, but Keith was all too familiar with having a dead parent. “My mother...she died giving birth to me. She had a haemorrhage and they couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

“I remember you saying that she wasn’t alive, that first night,” he commented, his voice slowly returning to its normal timbre. “That’s her watch, right?”

She glanced down at her wrist with a fond smile. “Yes. It was the first gift to her from my father after they started dating. He gave it to her on their second date - two days after their first date, to be precise.”

“I hope you don’t have any expectations,” he said, sounding slightly worried. But when she glanced at him, his eyes were sparkling with mirth. Huffing in laughter, she shook her head.

“Lotor gave me a gift on our second date. A necklace.” She recalled the gleaming silver, the sapphire heart, her excitement, and almost groaned. How naive she had been.

“I thought it was romantic at the time,” she mused, “but he didn’t do it for me – he didn’t do anything for me. When I look back, everything he did was to prove to himself that he was such a wonderful boyfriend.”

“Now, my father, he wasn’t like that,” she said quickly, shifting the conversation from Lotor. This was the first date she had ever gone on with someone who wasn’t him, and she didn’t want to waste time thinking about his hideous face.

“The first second he saw my mother, he was enamoured. They both took the same debate course at university. In the first class, they were all randomly assigned opponents and positions to take on a certain topic. She went up against him and demolished him in front of everyone. He says he fell in love right then, but I’ve always thought that was a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Does he miss her?” he asked.

“He’s never stopped missing her, but he learned to live without her.” In eighteen years, he had never once thought of remarrying. He hadn’t even gone on one date. “Sometimes I catch him standing in front of their engagement portrait in the bedroom hallway, reminiscing about his joy at loving her and his sorrow at losing her.”

 “My father only ever talks about my mother with fondness,” she added. “Like she was made of everything good in the world. Nobody’s perfect, but he makes it sound like she was a goddess.”

“That’s just like my dad,” he remarked. “My memories are pretty blurry, but his voice would change when he mentioned my mother. All that he ever told me about her was that she was strong. When I got older, I realized that he meant she was strong enough to leave me.”

He said it so casually that her heart broke for him, and she wondered how many times that was going to happen before she knew everything about his past. Sooner than she could respond, he gave a start and gripped the side of the door.

“Take a right, now,” he directed. “We’re almost there.” When the trees became a wall, she had no choice but to stop and park the Jeep.

“It’s only a short hike from here,” he said, leaving his gloves on the car seat and climbing out into the forest. Gathering her backpack filled with water bottles and the granola bars from earlier, she disembarked into the long grass.

Keith was wearing one of her father’s white dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and one side tucked into his washed jeans. The shirt wasn’t exactly practical for a jaunt through the park, but she had given it to him for two good reasons. First, he didn’t have to rotate his shoulder to put it on. Second, if he started bleeding from the exertion, she would see the red almost immediately – which had admittedly been the stronger reason.

Making sure she was behind him, he led her through the dense brush. She heavily regretted wearing a black tank top as bugs started to swarm her, and she spent half the time swatting them away with her baseball cap. By the time they reached the tree line, she had taken her hair out of its ponytail and shoved it in front of her face to function as some sort of shield.

But when they crossed out onto the rock plateau, it was like she was in a different world. Sun beat down, hot and comforting. After her eyes adjusted to the light, the view took her breath away. Mountains rose up in the distance, covered in greenery. An azure river ran below the cliff, rapids spraying up water against slick, dark rocks.

Hands in his pockets, Keith stood at the very edge. Birds flew from one tree to the next, their song a symphony. She was standing in a forgotten paradise, unknown to anybody else but the boy in front of her. The backpack dropped from her shoulder, forgotten on the ground.

“Come see,” he said, beckoning her to his side with a tilt of his head. In the sun, his eyes were a stark violet. When he reached out his hand to her, she couldn’t do anything but step forward.

“How did your father find this place?” she asked, taking in the sight with wonder.

“He never told me,” he answered, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. “All I know is that he loved the outdoors. One day, he might have found it hiking. Who knows?”

“It reminds me of him,” he said. “Being here, I always think of how he should be beside me. Maybe I feel exactly what your father does. Sorrow and joy.”

“It’s easy to dwell on what should be,” she said, sitting down and hanging her feet over the ledge. He joined her the next second. “I do it all the time, with my mother. I try to imagine what she would say to me whenever I’m feeling down, what she would do if she knew I was in the middle of a forest with a strange boy...”

He laughed, then his hand brushed hers as if by accident. But when she tried to pull away, he held on. Lacing his callused fingers through hers, he stared into her eyes the whole time, searching for approval and finding it.

“I’ve never been able to talk with someone like this,” she admitted. “I don’t want to make my father sad, so I never mention my mother around him too often.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to talk about my dad with anyone, too.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Being able to talk with someone who understands...it’s nice. Usually, I’m not a very... _open_ person.” 

She let the statement hang in the air, leaning to the side and resting her head against his good shoulder. He hummed in satisfaction, bringing their entwined hands to settle on his lap so that she could move closer. In calm silence interspersed with Keith’s comments about the wildlife, they sat together and stared out at the horizon until the sun started to dip in the sky.

If she could have stayed there for eternity with him, she would have. It was a selfish thought, but if it was possible she would let the world pass them by without caring. In that moment, he belonged beside her, and she never wanted him to go.

“You have tiny hands,” he muttered out of nowhere, stretching her fingers wide with his. She looked down, frowning when she saw how his hand dwarfed hers.

“That was rude,” she teased, a call-back that he recognized with a short bark of laughter.

“What’s rude is the sun,” he countered, squinting as he gazed into the sky. “We’ll be stuck here until morning if we don’t get going soon. It’s a lot harder to navigate the forest in the dark.”

“Whatever you say.” Letting go of his hand and getting on her feet, she made sure to memorize the view one last time before they hiked back.

“So,” Keith said, before she opened the car door, “do you like it here?”

“I do,” she said, setting her backpack down and turning to face him.

“Actually?” He was so pleased she almost rolled her eyes.

“Yes, actually,” she assured him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good,” he said, letting out a relieved breath. “I’m glad. Very glad. I didn’t know if this was the right place to take you. I mean, there’s only trees and rocks and bugs, but it’s pretty personal to me, and-.” He cut himself off when he realized he was rambling, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose before turning the full intensity of his dark eyes on her again.

“I’m really scared of messing this up,” he finally said, bracing himself against the Jeep and confining her between his arms. “With you,” he clarified. Her breath hitched.

“I just...” he whispered, leaning in carefully, until his lips were ghosting hers. “I want...”

She closed the distance, kissing him lightly and bringing her fingers up to curl in his hair. He made a startled noise in the back of his throat before reciprocating with vigour, and then all she could do was follow his lead. His mouth devoured hers recklessly, firm and insistent in a way she never expected.

When she imagined kissing him for the first time, she always pictured him going slow – taking his time to ease her into something more passionate. She had been wrong. So wrong.

Almost immediately, he passed his tongue over her bottom lip. She let her lips part thoughtlessly and he brushed his tongue against hers, stepping forward and walking her into the side of the Jeep at the same moment. Her back slammed against the window, and it didn’t hurt, but she gasped into his mouth just the same.  

With her eyes closed, he invaded her every other sense. He was intoxicating - even intimidating with how he was making her respond to him. Heat was smoldering in the pit of her stomach, spreading throughout her entire body. As he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted, hitching her legs around his waist and sliding her up against the side of the car, she let out a faint moan.

“Your shoulder...” she breathed, barely getting the words out before his lips crashed into hers again.

“Can’t even feel it,” he panted, trailing his mouth down her jaw to her neck. His hips pinned hers in place and she locked her ankles around his lower back. He flicked his tongue along her collarbone, mouthing against her skin and threatening to leave marks with gentle grazes of his teeth.

She was scorching, burning, incinerating - a phoenix crumbling to ash. With every touch, he was melting her down and forging her into something new – something that needed him like she needed air to breathe. It was frightening and overwhelming, and she revelled in it.  

Grasping the hair at the base of his neck, she tilted his face up to hers, meeting his mouth with another searing kiss. He grunted and shifted his hips, unafraid to let her feel how much he wanted her. Any enduring hesitation she had fled as she arched into him. 

With brazen, clumsy fingers, she started undoing the buttons of his shirt. When she had trouble getting one free, she tugged until the thread snapped, then continued lower and lower. She was halfway through when he broke away, pressing his lips to her temple and setting her down carefully.

Once she was on her feet, he leaned his forehead against the side of the car, right over her shoulder. He took in laboured breaths, tinged with barely-noticeable whines. In confusion, she froze, wondering why he had stopped, wondering what she had done wrong.

“I’m not exactly fit to-.” He paused, collecting the right words. “To do anything more.”

 _Oh god._ Mortification made her cheeks flame. Her arms fell from his neck, going limp at her sides as she came down from her frenzied high. What _was_ she doing? He thought-. But she didn’t really want-. But didn’t she?

“I d-didn’t,” she stuttered, her heart beating wildly. “I didn’t really mean to do that. I-.”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, moving back so that he could look her in the eye. “I want to do all of this at your pace, whatever that may be.” From this angle, she could see the angry, red scratches criss-crossing his chest, courtesy of her rushed fumbling.

“I-. Okay,” she whispered, some of her embarrassment subsiding at his sincerity. Hunger was still lurking in his pupils, calling to her own, but he forced it down. She could hardly glance at him as she relived her frantic clawing. Never before had she been so rabid, so _greedy_ for anyone.

“Hey,” he said, prompting her to make eye contact again. “It’s fine,” he repeated, before smirking and arching an eyebrow. “Now, I need your help doing these buttons up.”

“Just because you asked so nicely,” she replied, smiling back. As she fixed his shirt, he peppered her face with gentle kisses, and soon the shame dragging her down was gone.

She checked her watch once she was finished, grimacing at the time. “We better get going.”

“So you _don’t_ want to camp out in the Jeep, tonight?” he inquired, pretending to be serious.

“No,” she said, “but we actually could camp out here sometime.” She was planning everything in her head already. “As long as there are no bears, we could bring a tent and whatever else you need to go camping. I’ve never been, but if you wanted to, I think it would be fun.”

He looked surprised for a moment, but soon excitement washed over his features. “I would love to do that,” he said, his enthusiasm encouraging. “There are rarely any bears in the area, but we’ll bring bear spray just in case. We’ll need a tarp, an air mattress, a propane grill, lots of blankets, pillows, lawn chairs, a cooler, ice...”

When they got back to her house, she knew everything that could be known about camping off-the-grid. Their laughter attracted Elizabeth, one of the housekeepers, as they came through the front door. To Allura’s relief, she wasn’t taken-aback at Keith’s presence.

“Allura, your father was here half-an-hour ago,” she said. “He picked up some of his things before heading back to the hotel again.”

“Really?” she said, a smile splitting her face. “Thank you for letting me know!”

She rushed to the kitchen, where she knew a note would be waiting for her on the table. Throughout her childhood, her father had left her notes in the exact same place if she was out doing something and he wanted to get a message to her when she came home. Rounding the corner, she latched onto a pillar and used it to propel herself forward.

It was time for their silly fight to be over. Tomorrow, she would go visit him at the office and they would go out for lunch. She wanted to know how he was doing and get any updates on the acquisition.

Dashing around the fridge, she searched for the lined piece of paper with his golden initials engraved at the top. There was nothing.

Her smile died. The mahogany shone, freshly cleaned and utterly empty. Why wouldn’t he leave her a note?

 _Elizabeth_ , she thought. The housekeeper might have put it somewhere. Running back out of the kitchen, she passed Keith on his way to catch up to her. Without a question, he pivoted and followed her back to the entranceway.

“Elizabeth!” she shouted, trying to track her down. “Did you see a note on the table, or anywhere in the kitchen?”

With lifted brows, Elizabeth peeked around a corner. “No, I didn’t. Sorry, Allura. Your father came in, went to his room, then left.”

“Right,” she said, bottom lip wavering. “I was just wondering.” She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t. Not in front of Keith. Not after she had experienced the best date of her life.  

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, concern evident in his voice.

“Of course,” she responded, turning to him with a bright grin. “Let’s cook something for dinner.”

“I’m not too great in the kitchen,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ve been living off junk food and canned pasta for a year.”

“Well, I am,” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him along. He acquiesced with a squeeze of his fingers, and her smile became genuine. Later, she would think about her father. Or, she decided, she wouldn’t think about him at all.

In the kitchen, Keith hoisted her onto the counter, interrupting her protests about his shoulder by kissing her softly. His lips moved against hers in slow, tender declarations of devotion. And just like that, everything was alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I've started school again and it's my first priority. Updates will be coming less often because of this, but I am going to finish this fic, so don't worry about that. Finding Home has reached over 2000 hits, so thank you to my wonderful readers! You're all amazing :)


	11. C.K.

“Woah, this place is amazing!” Eyes wide, Lance twirled around, admiring the vaulted ceilings and marble statues lining the hallway. Hunk and Pidge nodded in agreement, just as distracted by the luxury surrounding them.

“Thank you,” Allura said. “My father designed pretty much all of it.” Right after proposing to her mother, her father had built this house. The rooms, the colours, the decorations, every single detail – he had done it all for her.

“There’s a cabana right before the stairs that lead to the pool,” she explained, catching Lance and Hunk’s rapt attention. “You can change in there. All you have to do is go straight ahead until you hit the glass doors and-.”

“Got it,” Lance exclaimed, grabbing Hunk’s arm and dragging him forward at a run.

“You’re the best, Allura!” Hunk shouted over his shoulder. Shaking his head at their antics, Pidge watched them go in amusement.

“So, you have everything I need?” Pidge asked.

“The laptop’s in the kitchen,” Allura replied, leading Pidge to the table. From her seat, Allura could see the green expanse of the yard and one, slight corner of the pool, but not much else. She just hoped the boys wouldn’t end up drowning each other.

She tapped her laptop. “This will give you a straight connection to Rosenstern’s intranet. Getting into the faculty database is up to you.”

“Should take me less than an hour. Assuming the software’s somewhat out-dated. If not...” Pidge muttered to himself in technical jargon, considering every complicated possibility, and Allura was so lost that she tuned out and started to wonder where Keith was. She hadn’t seen him for a good hour, but she assumed he was in the garage checking out her father’s car collection.   

Since their ill-timed, but memorable, trip to Olkari Park, he had been predictably bed-ridden from exhaustion, and just this morning he had gained enough energy to get himself out of her room and walk downstairs. While he was recovering, he had spent most of the time reading books from her father’s sci-fi collection as she sat across the room at her desk, cramming for her exams.

Before, she had never really understood how someone’s presence could be _enough_. But even while concentrating so hard on studying, she had heard him turn the pages of his book every so often and relaxed at the sound, knowing that he was only a few feet away, that he was healthy and recuperating at a steady rate. They didn’t even have to talk. Just having him in the same room was all she needed.

She slid her laptop over the table to Pidge and sat down across from him while he got to work, her thoughts still revolving around Keith. They tended to do that these days. He wasn’t always on her mind, but she seemed to think about him every spare moment she had.

Smiling to herself, she remembered Olkari Park, how he had lifted her up against the side of the car to kiss her. Starting the next morning, he hadn’t been able to move his shoulder without crying for six days. When she tied a sling around his neck and slid his arm through to keep it immobile, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I told you so,” and she had been slipping the phrase into their conversations at least once a day. She didn’t like to make light of his pain, but every time he only pouted in mock-hurt before pulling her into a soft kiss.

Not two minutes after she sat down with Pidge, an ear-piercing shriek came from outside. Leaping from her chair, she flew through the doors and down the steps to the pool, only to find Lance crouched on the flagstones and pointing at something.

“What is it?” she asked, stopping beside him.

“What is _Keith_ doing here?” She followed the direction his finger was pointing to find Keith floating on an inner tube in the pool, head tilted back, sunglasses on, one hand trailing in the water and the other holding an empty juice box. He looked so serene that she wanted to reprimand Lance for being so loud.

At the commotion, Keith turned his head slightly. His lips tilted into a small grin once he saw her standing there, only to fall into an inquisitive frown once he noticed Lance and Hunk. Kicking off from across the pool, he drifted over to their side and caught the edge, tossing the juice box on the ground to be picked up later.

She couldn’t quite look at his bare chest yet without cringing. Yellow bruises still covered his stomach, growing fainter by the day but still apparent. He was so skinny she could see his ribs, and his wiry muscles didn’t do much to hide his very obvious malnourishment. The sunglasses covered his black eye, but she knew the fading, gray shadow was still there.

Two days ago, she had followed a tutorial she had found on the internet and successfully removed his shoulder stitches before the skin grew over. What was left was a ridged scar, the edges jagged and lumpy. The red was stark against his pale skin, making it impossible to miss.

“Who is _that_?” Keith said, imitating Lance by jabbing a finger his way. Lance coughed in offense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice cracking. “I’m Lance! We went to the Garrison together. I’m a pilot; you _were_ a pilot.”

Keith frowned deeper at the emphasis, lifting the sunglasses up and resting them on top of his head. He narrowed his eyes, trying for some sort of recognition and finding none. “I have no idea who you are.”

“Well, I guess your memory deteriorated after you got yourself kicked out,” Lance said. He snubbed Keith and crossed his arms, facing Allura with a smirk that told her exactly what was coming.

“So, are you going to be joining us?” he asked, winking. “Because I’d love to see you in a-.”

“Maybe later,” she said, cutting him off before he could get any further. Behind Lance, Keith pulled himself out of the pool and onto the surrounding flagstones like an angry sea monster rising from the depths. Hunk watched it all with interest, but he still glanced at the water frequently, as if he wanted to jump in and ignore whatever was happening in front of him.

“Wait,” Keith snapped, once he was standing tall. “You’re _that_ cargo pilot aren’t you?” Lance bristled, then flushed in embarrassment. Hunk’s eyes bulged and he held both hands over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter.

“Sergeant Jeffries showed us the video in Advanced Flight,” Keith continued. “It was supposed to be anonymous but he forgot to take the name off. Your sixth aptitude simulation, I think it was. The space one everyone has to do that evaluates fine motor control.”

“You tried to dock at the space station and crashed into it, smashing the safety restraints and sending all of the other ships spinning off into space,” Keith said, chuckling at the memory. “The airlock malfunctioned and the whole station died from oxygen deprivation.”

“That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hunk added, before bursting into infectious laughter. Allura had to clamp her lips shut to keep from joining him. “Your face when the death toll came onto the screen was priceless.”

“I’ve come a long way since then,” Lance rebutted. “When you threw away your scholarship I was promoted to fighter pilot in _your_ place.”

“Good for you,” Keith said coolly. He came up behind Allura, wrapping both arms about her waist and glaring at Lance from over her shoulder.

Lance glared right back. Trying not to roll her eyes, Allura brought a hand up to Keith’s and dug her nails into his skin lightly, just enough to let him know that she was exasperated. She knew he got the message when he kissed her neck, staring down Lance the whole time.

“I bet you can’t do a double front flip into the pool like I can,” Keith said to Lance, breaking away from Allura with reluctance that only she picked up on.   

“Wanna bet?” Lance said, responding to the challenge by rolling his shoulders and limbering up. 

“You.” Keith pointed to Hunk, setting his sunglasses on a lawn chair. “What’s your name? I want you on my team for water volleyball.”

“I’m Hunk,” he said. “Both of us against Lance?” He pumped a fist. “Alright!”

“Wait, that’s not fair!” Lance shouted. As the three of them bickered, Allura started to sneak inside. As she walked up the steps, she turned back to see that Keith was watching her leave. He grinned at her before jumping into the water, and her face went hot when she wondered how he would react if she showed him how much she appreciated his effort later, when they were alone.

Back at the kitchen table, Pidge was typing, hypnotized by the screen in front of his face. “I’m making good progress,” he said. “Rosenstern’s supposed to be drowning in money, right? You might want to call in an anonymous tip for them to get a better IT guy. This one’s just lazy.”

For the next hour, she read Voltron’s most recent news releases and public reports from her phone, listening to the yelling and splashing going on outside. Finally, Pidge shouted in excitement, banging his hands against the table. 

“I’m in!” he said. “You wanted it to be a forty-nine, right?”

“Yes. Nothing higher, nothing lower.” Allura watched as Pidge keyed in the information, finishing with a nod. “Done. Is there anything else you wanted to know while I have access? There’s a lot of data in here.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you could check my Biology mark,” Allura said. She wasn’t overly concerned, but because of the limited time she had for studying she had decided that the class was her lowest priority and only looked over the textbook a few hours before the exam. In three days, she had to pick up her report card at the school anyways, but she would rather find out how she did sooner than later.

Due to the Keith situation, she had skipped a full week of classes by calling herself in sick. When she returned, every teacher had given her notes to help her catch up, and she knew that she had aced her exams, even while worrying about Keith. On top of it all, avoiding Lotor hadn’t been easy – she had to hide behind corners and duck into empty classrooms more than once - but now she was free to do whatever she wanted for the next three weeks of winter break.

“Ninety-eight,” Pidge said. Allura’s shoulders sagged in relief. Her early acceptance to Altea University depended on a high average.

“Thank you,” she sighed, pulling cash out of her wallet. “Here’s the rest of your fee.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime you need my hacking expertise, give me a call,” Pidge said, tucking the money in his pocket. “Here’s my number. Life can get a little boring at the Garrison, so I wouldn’t mind another job.”

“Hopefully I won’t have to do anything this extreme again,” Allura replied, “but you never know. Thanks for the offer. You’ve helped me out immensely.” She could picture Lotor’s face already, and when she smiled at what three days from now would bring, she showed too much teeth for it to be kind.

~

When she walked out to the pool clad in her pink bikini, Keith was lounging on a chaise in the shade. He had put the sunglasses back on at some point, so she couldn’t tell if he saw her or not as she made her way over to him.

“You look comfortable,” she observed. He smiled at the sound of her voice and curled his fingers one by one, beckoning her closer.

“Join me,” he pleaded, patting his lap. She obliged, straddling him and resting her fingertips on his bruised abdomen. With a contented smirk, he placed his hands on her thighs, massaging circles into her skin with his thumbs.

“So, you ended up getting along with Lance and Hunk?” she asked. He nodded, his smirk disappearing.

“Hunk is great,” he said. “Lance...He’s alright.” She laughed at his solemn tone, then plucked the sunglasses off his face. Whining in protest, he closed his eyes at the sudden brightness.

“What am I on your lap for then? Are you jealous?” He let out a loud, whooshing breath and gripped her thighs tighter.

“Maybe I just want to look at you,” he rumbled, his voice dropping to a guttural rasp. Opening his eyes, he surveyed her body so intimately that her breaths turned shallow.

“It can’t be both?” she probed. Groaning, he glanced up at her with a guilty expression.

“Maybe it’s both,” he admitted. “Not that I think you’re going to run off with Lance into the sunset or anything, but the way he stares at you so blatantly makes my blood boil.”

“It shouldn’t,” she teased, leaning down and sliding her hands up his stomach to his chest. “I have no interest in anyone other than you.”

“I know,” he sighed, shutting his eyes again as she explored his skin. “Believe me, I know.”

“Do you?” she said, before pressing her lips to his collarbone. “Because I can prove it to you.” She could feel his heart pound at the suggestion.

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” he asked, breathless, his hands climbing from her thighs to her waist and inching higher. Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she licked up his neck to his jaw. With his fingers, he tilted her chin up and prompted her mouth to meet his.

She kissed him until her lips were swollen, until she would have let him have her on the hard flagstones had he wanted to. But she wasn’t ready, and he didn’t push her. When he said that he wanted to do everything at her pace, he had meant it.

He gazed up at her with hooded eyes when she pulled back. “We should go for a swim before it gets too dark,” he said abruptly, letting her know that he needed to calm himself down without using the actual words.

“Good idea,” she agreed. After kissing his cheek, she crawled off of him and dove into the pool. He only jumped in when she resurfaced, laughing and making sure his splash hit her right in the face.

~

Keith strolled out of the bathroom in a pair of her father’s checkered pajama pants and a loose, white t-shirt. Drying his hair with a towel, he made his way to the couch and plopped down beside her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She tucked her knees to her chest and reclined into his side before grabbing the remote.  

“I want to open the box,” he stated, stopping her from turning on the television. She couldn’t disguise her shock.

“Now?” Since the day she brought it back from Laura’s office, he had shoved the box under her bed and ignored its existence. For two whole weeks, he had let it gather dust, and she hadn’t dared to question him on it. The box was his business, and he hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to do anything but forget about what it contained.

“Now,” he affirmed. “I’ve been thinking. A lot. I would really like you to be with me when I go through everything.”

“Sure,” she sputtered, surprised and slightly confused. “Go ahead.”

He hung the towel over the back of the couch, grabbed his knife, and dragged the box out. Carrying it over, he set it on the table in front of them and exhaled through his nose. Allura couldn’t deny that she was incredibly curious, but she waited as Keith stared at the box, something like fear washing over his features.

Then his hand shot out and he dragged the knife’s sharp point over the packing tape. He let the knife fall to the floor, ripped the box open, and froze. Whatever he saw made him clamp his hands over his mouth and convulse, as if he was going to be sick.

“Keith!” she said, placing a hand between his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to look through it if you don’t want to. Just-.”

“Take it out for me, please,” he begged, his voice muffled by his hands. “I can’t do it.”

Hesitantly, she looked inside. There was a photograph at the very top, the metal frame rusty and the glass cracked from being haphazardly thrown in the box with everything else. Gently, she lifted it out and held it on her lap, angling it up so that they could both see what the photo contained.

She knew who the baby was immediately. Dark hair. Pale skin. Chubby arms. Sleeping as a tall, muscular man that had to be his father held him in one arm.

He couldn’t have been older than a couple of months at the time. Keith’s father was smiling down at him with so much love it made her heart ache. That wasn’t the worst part, though – the part that made tears come to Keith’s eyes as he fought to take in even breaths through his fingers.

A woman was sitting beside Keith’s father on the couch. She was leaning into him, holding his free hand with both of hers. It would have been a normal, lovely family photo if her face hadn’t been scratched out and coloured over with black permanent marker.

The vandalism looked like it had been done violently, with random scrapes and flecks of marker across the rest of the photo. But whoever had done it had been thorough. Allura couldn’t even see what her hair looked like.

“Why would he do this?” Keith said, voice wavering. He thought his father had done it – erased his mother from the photo in a way only someone that hated her would. His fingers shook as he ran them over the glass where his mother’s face was supposed to be.

“Let’s take it out,” Allura suggested, the eeriness of the photo sending shivers up her spine. “Maybe there’s something on the back.”

"Please,” Keith said through his hands.

Her hunch turned out to be right. There was writing on the back, in faded pen and the same permanent marker.

The writer who had used the pen had choppy handwriting. The first word, a name most likely, had been drawn over with the marker used on the front, but the rest was clear. _Me and Keith. – Rick Kogane._

The marker was a bold scribble, some letters hard to decipher, as if the writer had been rushing to get the message down. Keith shuddered, blinking back fresh tears and shaking his head like he didn’t want to accept what he saw. Allura read the words over and over again, dread making her stomach churn each time.  

_They got me. Sorry. – C.K._


	12. Calamity

Kolivan’s house was perfectly normal. Tucked in the back corner of some nondescript subdivision, it was identical to the other houses on either side of the street, built from sparkling gray brick and adorned with white trimming. A rocking chair sat idly on the front porch, motionless in the light breeze.

The landscaping was immaculate. The grass was neatly trimmed, not one weed in sight. The bushes lining the walkway to the house flowered in eye-catching yellows and oranges, and were visibly tended to with utmost care.

There was nothing unusual, nothing that stood out. It was just a cozy home owned by a rich retiree trying to seclude himself from the world. No one would suspect it to be a front for an ex-military general that knew more government secrets than the rest of the neighbourhood combined.

Stopping the GT-R behind Kolivan’s Hummer, Keith took a moment to calm his hammering pulse. Allura didn’t know he was here. No one did. When she stepped out of the room this afternoon, he had broken into her phone and discovered Kolivan’s address after a few minutes of searching.

In any other situation, he wouldn’t have lied to her. In any other situation, he would have told her where he was going when he asked to borrow one of her cars. But in any other situation, the man he was going to confront hadn’t held a knife to his throat while making cryptic comments about his parents.

This was stupid, and he knew it. Despite his reservations, he got out of the car, slamming the door closed to announce his arrival. In the system, he had learned to be cautious in order to survive. Now, he was throwing that hard-earned lesson away by walking towards certain danger willingly, even as all of his instincts screamed against it.

After seeing the photo, he had to do it. Though he hadn’t told Allura, he was certain his mother was the one who defaced the photo. She had scratched out her own face, drawn over her name, and written that message laced with horror to his father. He had to understand why, and Kolivan was his only lead.

Finding out about his mother shouldn’t have been worth the risk of being killed, or maimed, but there he was anyways, standing on Kolivan’s welcome mat and ringing the doorbell. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps, then a few seconds after that, the door swung open.

“Wasn’t expecting you,” Kolivan said, his voice gruff. He looked thoroughly unamused, his face hard as stone, but Keith didn’t let the general’s piercing stare intimidate him.   

“I need to ask you something,” Keith said, leaving no room for refusal. Narrowing his eyes, Kolivan shuffled back and ushered Keith inside.

The living room was just as spotless as the outside of the house, with gleaming walnut floors, brown leather couches, and a large, brick fireplace, the mantle decorated with shiny trophies. Motioning for Keith to sit down on one of the couches, Kolivan sat directly opposite to him on the other one, a glass table littered with remotes between them.

“What do you want?” Kolivan said, his expression becoming more severe with every passing moment.

“What do you know about my mother?” Keith asked. To his credit, Kolivan didn’t react beyond a twitch of his mouth.

“What do _you_ know about your mother?” Kolivan replied.

“Nothing.” If he wanted to receive honesty from Kolivan, he had to be honest in return. “I never knew her. My father never told me anything important about her before he died, but now I need answers. Too many strange things have been happening to me lately.”

“Elaborate,” Kolivan ordered, locking his fingers together on his lap. In what he considered a smart decision, Keith decided to skip over the part where Kolivan had attacked him with a knife while raving like a lunatic.

“I was invited to join a gang called the Blades,” Keith said, his stomach twisting as he recalled Morvok’s offer and his violent response. “I refused. About a week later, some of them found me at night and stabbed me. They were saying some really weird things that didn’t make any sense.”

“The blade will cut,” Kolivan recited. “The blade will draw blood. The blade will flay skin from bone. The blade is all. The blade waits.”

Keith moved his hand to rest on the hilt of the knife strapped to his back as his heartbeat skyrocketed. “How do you know that?”

“You’re wondering why,” Kolivan said, fire blazing in his eyes. He almost looked excited. “You think it’s because you refused them, don’t you?” Warily, Keith nodded. “Well, you’re wrong.”

After sighing, Kolivan continued. “Tell me, Keith, have you ever heard of an initiation?”

Keith’s vision tunnelled as he understood. It had all been a test. A perverse baptism through violence.

“No,” Keith protested, taking in forced breaths. “I can’t be a member of the Blades. I didn’t agree. I didn’t-.”

“And do you really think they care about what you want?” Kolivan said. “If I were to guess, they’re resurfacing and recruiting talented kids who have a taste for blood. You were marked as one of them. Now here you are, officially a Blade. They’ll be looking for you to start doing their dirty work soon.”

“How do you know all of this?” Keith asked, pushing the disturbing revelation to the back of his mind. He had to find out about his mother; that was the only reason he was here. The Blades couldn’t make him do anything. They were nothing to him. Nothing.

“Ah, that’s right,” Kolivan said. “You’re too young to know about Altea’s dark past. Well, here’s a quick history lesson.”

He seemed to go back in time as he spoke. “Seventeen years ago, a brutal gang war tore Altea to shreds. Rival gangs were fighting and people were being gunned down left and right. It was suicide to walk the streets after dark. The Blades were bidding to take control of Altea, and they weren’t going to stop until they had reached their goal. The body count didn’t even faze them."

“It got so bad that the military had to be called in to put an end to it. I was one of the generals that led the operation. I helped orchestrate the downfall of the Blades, but some of them were able to walk free. Nothing good is going to come of their return.”

“You have no idea how much danger you’re in, kid. If any of the right people actually see your face...” Kolivan trailed off with a grimace. Then he laughed cynically, earning a glare from Keith. “You didn’t ask to be born. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“What do you mean?” Keith said. His fear was almost paralyzing, but he hid it as well as he could. Kolivan’s eyes were steel as they bore into his.

“Before I say anything more, I am telling you to leave this city right now. Don’t even take your things. Get out. Don’t look back.”

“I can’t,” Keith said. “There are people I care about here.” His thoughts flashed to Allura, then Shiro.

“Trust me when I say they’ll be safer without you,” Kolivan said, as if he knew that he had been thinking of Allura. “With you around, they’re in as much danger as you are. Throw out the knife, take the motorcycle, and leave.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” Keith said, confessing his real reason for not running when he had the chance, for hiding out in Fairbanks for months on end instead of just _going_. “I can’t leave until they come back. I won’t. Just tell me why I’m in danger.”

For a long moment, Kolivan scrutinized him. Then he rubbed his forehead and looked to the floor before meeting Keith’s pleading gaze again.

“You look just like her,” he said. Keith’s stomach turned to lead. “The first moment I saw you, I knew you were her son. Your hair, your eyes, your face, your build – there was no mistaking it. When Sendak sees you, he’ll recognize you too. Truthfully, I don’t know if he’ll kill you or not.”

“You knew her,” Keith whispered. His world was fracturing, and he didn’t know if he could ever pull it back together.

“Kelly,” Kolivan continued. “She didn’t have a last name. No one knew where she came from. She didn’t even know herself. In Fairbanks, she carved out an existence as the best car thief around. Behind the wheel, she was unstoppable. She could break into anything. She could drive anything.”

Like he could, Keith thought. Star pilot of the Garrison. Never failed a simulation. Best driver Sergeant Jeffries had ever seen. He had gotten it all from his mother.

“She gained Sendak’s attention rather quickly, as a beautiful, feral thing with a talent he could use.” Kolivan frowned in distaste. “When she joined the Blades, she rose up in the ranks unusually fast. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, no job she would back out of. She drove for the most part, but many people died at her hand, and I think she liked it.”  

Keith almost begged Kolivan to stop as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to believe that his mother was a murderer. He didn’t need to know that he was the son of someone who was capable of putting a gun to someone’s head and pulling the trigger.  

“She brought calamity with her wherever she went,” Kolivan said. “Calamity Kell, they called her, after Calamity Jane of the Wild West. The Calamity became a legend on the streets.”

“That’s why you said calamity so much when you met me,” Keith interjected. Everything was becoming clearer and he wanted to go back to when he didn’t know anything, when he was _content_ with not knowing anything.

“I was trying to see if you knew you she was,” Kolivan admitted without remorse, “and if you knew who you were. There was a good chance that you were as dangerous as your mother, if not more so.”

“I passed your test, then,” Keith said, full of bitterness.

“You didn’t know anything,” Kolivan stated. “I was shocked that you were left ignorant of your heritage. Kell was an important figure in Altea – almost revered. But she made a mistake, just as all mortals are prone to do.”

“The authorities never seemed to have enough evidence to charge her with anything, until the Blades took it on themselves to get her locked up. Rumour was that she wanted to get out.” Kolivan chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“She knew better,” he continued. “Once you’re in, you’re never out.” Keith’s blood ran cold as he realized that now applied to him.

“A prominent Altean businessman was assassinated by one of the Blades, sparking an escalation of the war. That’s when we – the military - moved in after months of espionage to clean everything up. The Blades higher-ups were able to frame Kell for the murder and for a series of homicides that she didn’t commit, though she deserves every single second of those three life sentences.”

“Wait, she _deserves_?” Keith asked, realization dawning and making him ill. “Do you mean that she’s still...” _Alive._ He couldn’t even say it out loud.

“Kell’s been locked up in Marmora Maximum Security Prison for seventeen years,” Kolivan said matter-of-factly. “She’s very much alive. Your father didn’t tell you, eh?”

Keith couldn’t even respond. His mother was alive. She hadn’t left him.

But that wasn’t true. She _had_ chosen to leave him.

All of _her_ choices had led to her being imprisoned. She may not have wanted to leave her family, but she was forced to because of her decisions. She was the only person to blame. It was her fault that she had killed people and gotten herself thrown in Marmora. It was her fault that he never had a mom.

“I guess you don’t know how they met,” Kolivan speculated, his brows furrowing in thought. “Where did your father work?”

“The Steel Plant,” Keith said, his voice hoarse. His body didn’t feel like his own.

“That makes sense. They all used to hang around at one of the bars near there.” Kolivan frowned, and Keith knew what was coming. “He wasn’t the one involved in that accident, was he?”

“He was,” Keith croaked, barely registering Kolivan’s presence. Everything was surreal. Nothing he was hearing could be right, but it was starting to make sense in a twisted, horrible way.

 _They got me._ The Blades had framed her and she knew she was going to be arrested. _Sorry._ She never wanted this to happen, but there was nothing she could do to change it. That had been the essence of her message to his father.

 _C.K._ Calamity Kell.

“I heard about that one,” Kolivan said. “You know, the Steel Workers Union sued the factory over your father’s wrongful death. Key safety standards were ignored, and it all culminated in that beam falling. The factory hired lawyers that got them out of the charges, but it was a big scandal at the time.”

“I know,” Keith snapped. His head started to throb and he gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone and nothing can change that.”

If his dad was still alive, his life would have been so different. As long as he had his dad, he wouldn’t have cared about his mom. He had known nothing about her and hadn’t suffered for it. He wished he still knew nothing about her, because now that he knew, he hated her.

“How do I even know if any of this is true?” Keith yelled, pounding his fists against the glass table. “You could be lying to me and I wouldn’t know any better.”

His temper was rising and he couldn’t control it. Maybe he had always hated his mother. Maybe he had always hoped he would be given a reason to justify that hate.

“That’s easy,” Kolivan said. “Look at your life, Keith. Look what happened after you showed up in Fairbanks out of nowhere. You haven’t gone looking for help, but help has come to you, hasn’t it?”

“Thace,” Keith muttered. “Ulaz. I was helping out a lady with car trouble on the side of the road. They saw me and invited me to work at their garage once a week. Thace said he could recognize my talent.”

“And he did,” Kolivan said. “He must have known who you were immediately. Thace and Ulaz were prominent Blades. They think they’re out, but they’re not. No one ever is.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Keith argued, clenching and unclenching his fists. “It could just be a coincidence.”

“How did you get that motorcycle?” Kolivan challenged. “Did you pay for it?”

Keith shook his head. “I won it in a bet. Thace-.”

“You really think Thace would give up a machine like that because of a measly bet with a teenage brat?” Kolivan scoffed. “He _gave_ it to you, and do you want to know why?”

Keith almost said no. He didn’t want to know anything. He knew too much already.

“It was your mother’s,” Kolivan said. “You heard that thing screaming down the road, you heard Calamity Kell. There’s no other bike like it in existence.”

Keith finally snapped. “I don’t believe you!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and balling his fists. “That’s not who my mother was. That’s not who my father loved.”

“Kell’s bike was black,” Kolivan deadpanned, unimpressed with Keith’s outburst. “Thace painted it red to disguise it, but if you look underneath that fake exterior you’ll see the truth. You’re Calamity Kell’s son.”

Keith ran. He couldn’t do anything but run.

“Stop right there!” Kolivan roared, chasing him across the room. His intensity was so terrifying that Keith listened.  

“It all makes sense now,” Kolivan said, crossing his arms. “At one point, she disappeared for a year or so, and now I know why. No one even knew you existed back then. She did a good job at keeping you a secret.”

“That sounds like the only good thing she’s ever done,” Keith snarled. He needed to get out of there. The walls were suffocating him. Kolivan tilted his head.

“She has friends at Marmora,” Kolivan said, after a charged moment of silence. “I could leak that you want to see her, and she could pull some strings to get you a visitation.”

“Yes,” Keith said without even thinking. “Do it.” Then he ran, and this time Kolivan didn’t stop him.

When he got into the car, he drove like he was on autopilot. Before ten minutes had passed, he was at _Thace’s Automotive Repairs_. On the weekend no one was there to let him in, but fortunately, he still had his key.

Propped up against a salt shaker on the kitchen table, there was a note. _Keith, if you see this come by on a Wednesday. We have to talk. – Thace._

He took the paper and ripped it to shreds, holding himself back from screaming as the pieces fell to the floor like confetti. He tore the tarp off his motorcycle and studied the gleaming body. It _was_ unique – that couldn’t be denied. The bike had to have been custom-built by a master mechanic.

Carefully, he took his knife and reached underneath, to a spot where a scratch wouldn’t be too noticeable. He winced when he scraped the paint. Red flecked away, and he wanted to see gray steel. He needed to see gray steel.

But all he saw was black.

~

He didn’t know how he made it back. The whole time, he was ready to throw up on the steering wheel. The sight of the gates helped him relax, a little. It was good to feel safe. It was good to be home. It-.  

His thoughts stalled. _Home_. What a joke. When had he started thinking something so ridiculous?

This was the most extravagant mansion in Altea. He didn’t belong here, driving someone else’s car and wearing someone else’s clothes. This wasn’t his home.

He didn’t have a home. He didn’t even know what home meant anymore.

Before he reached the front door, he had already made up his mind. Up the stairs, down the hallway, and then he was throwing open Allura’s door. He had some sort of speech prepared, but everything cluttering his mind fled once he saw her sleeping.

She hadn’t even had the energy to crawl underneath the covers. Some of her hair was stuck in her mouth, fluttering as she breathed in and out. The sight of her looking so peaceful ripped him in half.

One part of him wanted to stay. He wanted to lie down beside her and hold her in his arms, so that when she woke up the first thing she would notice was him. He wanted to close his eyes and let her even heartbeat lull him to sleep.  

One part of him still wanted to leave. But by that point, it wasn’t a want. It was a need.

So he threw on his jacket, sewn up so expertly that he could barely notice where the knife had cut through the leather. Next, he grabbed the box and tucked it under one arm. And then, the only thing left for him to do was head out into the unknown.

It was going fine until he closed the front door. All of his determination vanished as he thought of Allura, and how betrayed she would feel when she found out that he was gone. After all she had done for him, she deserved an explanation.

But what would he even say? That he wasn’t good enough for her? That he was an unwitting gang member and his mother was a psychopath, and he didn’t want her to get dragged down with him?

Or that every time he so much as glanced at her, his heart swelled and he forgot about how shitty his life was, and it was killing him to walk away from her?

His arms started to shake and he let the box drop to the porch with a clatter. He sat down on the steps and held his face in his hands as he dry-heaved.

Father dead. Mother imprisoned. Shiro missing. Where did that leave him? What was he going to become?

Light footsteps sounded from behind, and he shrank into himself even more. A moment of silence stretched out before Allura said, “If you want to leave, I won’t try to convince you not to.”

He listened as she perched herself on the step beside him. “I want you to stay.” Her voice cracked, then weakened. “But I won’t keep you if you don’t want to be kept. I’m not like that.”

The tears that he had been holding back finally broke free. He was a blubbering mess, but Allura’s arms surrounded him just the same. She guided his wet face into the crook of her neck as he wept for so many reasons he couldn’t even separate them from each other.

Through it all, she held him like he mattered. Like she wanted to. Like he wasn’t pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, if he was even apologizing to her or himself or his father or Shiro.

“No,” she said, shushing him. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Hands trembling, he clung to her like a dying man holding onto the last moments of his life.

“Come inside,” she whispered, and despite what she had said earlier, it _was_ a plea. He nodded against her shoulder, incapable of voicing how much he needed to be with her.

She led him to the couch in the living room and let him rest his head on her lap as he bawled. Carding her fingers through his hair, she spoke to him in soothing whispers and he focused on the calming lilt of her voice without paying attention to the words. When his tears ran out, she didn’t stop, and they stayed there for what seemed like hours.

“I don’t want to leave,” he finally mumbled. He couldn’t tell her the truth about his mother, or the Blades. The less she was involved, the safer she would be.

She prompted him to turn his head, so that he could look into her brilliant, blue eyes. “Then don’t,” she said. “Stay.”

“I will.” Reaching up, he ran the back of his hand down her jaw, marveling at how beautiful she was. He may not deserve Allura, but he wasn’t going to give her up until she wanted him to. He was going to fight for her, like she had fought for him.

Day by day, she was piecing his shattered life back together with her strength, compassion, and fortitude. His fingertips grazed her temple, then lingered on her smooth cheek. As she smiled, it was easy for him to say, “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happened sooner than I wanted it to, but I had to get Keith's mom's reveal out of the way before S4 has a chance to one-up me. Thank you for 3000 hits, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	13. Revenge

With her arms locked around Keith’s waist and her hair whipping against her helmet, Allura didn’t know whether to scream in terror or shout in exhilaration. On one hand, Keith was an excellent driver, and she trusted him to keep her safe. On the other hand, a motorcycle’s fatality rate was much higher than that of a car’s, and he was driving what seemed like twice the speed limit, passing moving vehicles like they were stationary.

Before they had gotten on his motorcycle, Keith had told her to grab his forearm if she wanted him to slow down. She had laughed at the suggestion, saying that she could handle a little speed. Now, she understood why he had ducked his head to hide an amused grin. And it wasn’t because he had appreciated her cheesy innuendo.

Grimacing at her bravado and contemplating bruising her pride, her fingers twitched around his waist, very close to reaching out to said forearm. She didn’t know if lane-sharing was legal in Altea, but Keith didn’t seem to care. Where there was no open space for him to slide into, he sped up and made it for himself.

Following his instructions, she held onto his waist tight, but not tight enough that it would restrict him in any way. When he leaned, she leaned with him. Beneath her arms, she felt how his wiry muscles flexed each time he clutched. Like when he drove her Ferrari, he had such control that the motorcycle seemed to be part of him.

Cars fell behind them in flashes of colour, the afternoon sun glinting off their side view mirrors. White, dashed lines blurred into one. Effortlessly, he threaded in between vehicles, never making one wrong move.  

The longer he drove, the less fearful she became. She loved the rush that speed brought, and she was _alive_ as the wind whistled in her ears, drowning out everything but the raw power of the motorcycle’s engine. If she could see Keith’s face, she bet that he would be grinning.

In so little time she had become attuned to each of his movements and what actions they signalled. Though she had been this close to him countless times, there was something newly intimate about learning his body’s subtle intricacies – something that she _liked_. Unconsciously, she dug her fingers into his leather jacket as heat gathered in the pit of her stomach.

Keith noticed. He turned his head slightly, not enough that it took his attention from the road, but enough that she knew he was wondering if she was okay. In his visor, she could only see the highway’s reflection, not the dark eyes hidden behind. To ease his concern, she loosened her grip and tried to think of anything else but the way he felt against her.

He shifted his hips forward in the seat and she made sure to lean into his back before he accelerated. Hopefully the ride was bringing his spirits back up. He had been withdrawn since his breakdown yesterday, and she hadn’t been able to discern the source of his melancholy.

She didn’t want to ask him what was wrong outright; if it was something he wanted to tell her, he would have already. But that didn’t stop her gnawing curiosity.  

This morning, she had driven him to Thace’s garage to pick up his motorcycle while it was still dark. Inside, he had scribbled a quick message to Thace on a napkin and left it on the cluttered kitchen table. Though she had tried to talk herself down from peaking at it when he went to his bike, her willpower had failed her.

_I’ll be in Wednesday morning. – K. Kogane_

The note didn’t tell her that anything strange had transpired, but there was a kernel of worry in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. If Keith would only talk to her, she might be able to help him in some way. But maybe that was precisely why he wasn’t. Maybe he thought she had helped him enough already.

She didn’t know how to breach the subject, so she chose to stay quiet. Giving him some time seemed like the best course of action. When he wanted to open up, he would.

Up ahead, the Exit 62 sign appeared and her stomach jumped. Rosenstern was only ten minutes away. Lotor was only ten minutes away. She was ready.

When Keith’s motorcycle roared down Rosenstern’s spotless, cobblestone drive, all heads turned. No one could mistake her flowing hair, even when half of it was trapped underneath her pink helmet. Keith’s identity was sure to become a source of gossip amongst her classmates, and she couldn’t wait to hear the rumours.

Fortunately, Keith found a parking spot far away from Lotor’s Aston Martin. When he stopped, she let out a whooshing breath and peeled herself from the seat. On solid ground, she removed her helmet, fluffing her flattened hair and scrutinizing her flushed appearance in the visor’s reflection.

Holding the helmet farther from her body so that she could see her whole outfit, she unzipped her off-white leather jacket and smoothed her ruffled, lavender shirt. She wanted to look good when she exacted her revenge on Lotor. Thankfully, her bleached jeans were clean and her tan booties were free of any grease stains. With a nod of satisfaction, she brought the visor back up to her face.

“You look gorgeous,” Keith supplied as she fussed with her lip gloss. He clipped his helmet onto the back of his motorcycle and held out a hand for hers.

“I appreciate the compliment,” she said, passing her helmet to him, “but you also told me that this morning over breakfast, before I’d even had the chance to take a shower.”

“It was true.” He gave playful shrug at her scepticism and threw an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close as they made their way to the courtyard.

“So, what do you think of riding a motorcycle?” he asked.

“It was fun, if a bit scary.” He smirked at that, giving her a fond look that made her heart leap. “I think you should teach me how.”

“Just say the word and we can start at any time,” he said, talking faster as he thought about it. “Though, for your safety you should learn on a less powerful bike. And-.”

Like she feared, the stares got to him, as did the impeccable fortress of red brick walls and towering Greco-Roman pillars that was Rosenstern. He dipped into an uneasy silence, and he didn’t lose the tension in his abdomen when she squeezed his waist in reassurance. As soon as he caught a glimpse of an unoccupied bench under a maple tree, his head snapped in its direction and she knew he had lost him.

“I think I’m going to hang out over there while you run in,” he said, looking towards the empty space with a sort of desperation.

“Go ahead,” she said, before gripping the collar of his jacket and pulling him into a kiss that ruined her carefully-applied lip gloss. He smiled at her eagerness before sliding his tongue into her mouth. Everyone was watching them, and it was all the more enjoyable for it. When he slipped his hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she broke away before she got too caught up in him and forgot about her report card entirely.

“I should be out in fifteen minutes,” she said, letting go of him with reluctance.  

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied. His absence from Rosenstern’s interior was for the best anyways. If they ran into Lotor together, she didn’t want to think about what would ensue.

In the main lobby, she found the short line leading to Sherrie and the box of report cards, and planted herself at the back. The process was archaic but quick, and she was two people from the front when she heard Lotor’s melodic laughter. She resisted looking behind her, crossing her arms and glowering at nothing as she fought the urge to tell him to shut up. At least he wasn’t trying to talk to her.

When she got her report card, she buried her face in it and kept her joy inside, lest Lotor attempt to comment on anything she did. Smothering a yell of victory and congratulating herself on what was certain to be an early acceptance to Altea University, she pretended to linger and read through every single teacher’s comment, nodding her head as if she was immersed in what they had written.

It was finally Lotor’s turn to receive his report card, and she covered her mouth with the papers in her hand to hide her vindictive grin. He yanked it from Sherrie’s hand without a word of thanks, then turned to his friends and waved it in the air, arrogant and smug before taking the time to scan his grades. His reaction to what he found there was even better than she expected.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t rage. He didn’t rip the offending report card to shreds.

His lower lip trembled. He started blinking rapidly. Then his face scrunched and he actually started crying - in front of her, his friends, _everyone_. Shame colouring his cheeks, he made his escape and ran down the hall, his sniffles echoing until he found an open classroom and slammed the door. 

She and Lotor had grown up together, and as a result, she knew almost everything there was to know about him. His favourite colour. His fear of ladybugs. His dreams. His failure to understand anything mathematically inclined.

Lotor wanted to get into Altea University’s prestigious School of Business Administration, just like her and just like their fathers before them. Together, they had applied for early admission, helping each other with their essays and statements of experience. When the university made its decision over the next two weeks, every single one of their high school grades would be taken into account.

The only problem facing Lotor’s potential acceptance was that he had failed a core math course last year that was required for admission. No amount of coercion could get his semi-retired teacher to change it, so he had retaken it with a new teacher, Mr. Gordon, this past semester, expecting to pass.

With a ninety-three percent, he would have - _if_ she hadn’t hired Pidge to hack into Rosenstern’s Student Records and change his grade to a forty-nine. At any other school, and with any other unfathomably rich parent, that failing grade wouldn’t have hampered his acceptance, except that Zarkon was a firm believer in succeeding on your own merit, not your family’s reputation. He refused to use his influence to aid Lotor in any way, and had communicated to the university that they were to judge him as they would any other student, making it clear that the exorbitant donations they received from him wouldn’t be affected either way.

With a forty-nine percent in any class, Lotor didn't even have a chance of being accepted.

Of course, Allura wasn’t in the business of ruining lives, and she knew that Lotor would track Mr. Gordon down and force him to change his final grade. She didn’t feel bad for Mr. Gordon either, because she also knew that Lotor had been paying him off to get undeservingly high marks on every test and assignment. By the end of the day, Rosenstern administration would chalk the whole mess up to a printing error and be done with it, but witnessing Lotor’s momentary distress had probably been the most cathartic experience of her life.

That was what he got for screaming at her in that restaurant. That was what he got for abandoning her on the streets to get mugged. That was what he got for being the worst boyfriend in existence. That was what he got for treating her like dirt and expecting her to forgive him.

She felt like she could fly, but she held in her glee until she was outside. On the front steps, she pumped her fist and let herself smile so wide her jaw started to hurt. Searching for Keith, she found him already on his bike and waved.

Once he saw her, he started it up and revved it a few times for fun, drawing all eyes. He was hot as hell lounging on the seat, her helmet on his lap while he waited for her. She admired the snug fit of his jeans, the way his long fingers curled around the handlebars, and though his face was hidden by his helmet, she could tell he was drinking in the sight of her just the same.

She couldn’t help but strut as she walked to him. She couldn’t help but think: _Mine_. She couldn’t help but want him more than she wanted anything in the world.  

“Wait up, _slut_.” Lotor’s voice cracked through the air. After a second of bewilderment, she realized that he was talking to _her_. She whirled around to see him charging in her direction, his crumpled report card clenched tight in his fist and his blue eyes rimmed with red.

 _Slut_. That almost sent her beyond the limits of her self-control. Blistering with fury, she stood her ground as he made his approach. Behind her, Keith turned off his motorcycle, guessing that nothing good was going to come from Lotor’s presence.  

“What did you just call me?” she challenged, loud enough that the whole yard could hear. Her heart was pounding so hard she was aware of every beat, and silence fell as everyone waited for the coming confrontation with bated breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After what feels like a decade, I am so happy to get this chapter out. It was originally supposed to be longer, but I split it in half (hence the cliffhanger) so expect the next part in two or so weeks. I've been really busy with school, but things are starting to wind down now so hopefully I can get back to more regular posting. Thank you all so much for over 4000 hits!!


	14. A Violent History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Haley in Chapter 2 is now Acxa. The generals didn't exist when I started this fic, but I went back and changed the name recently just because it works better.  
> 2\. The sexual content begins in this chapter, and it continues until the end.  
> 3\. Thank you so much for 5000 hits!!!!!

“You heard me,” Lotor said. He jerked his chin towards Keith and sneered. “Fucking trash now, are you?”

He threw his report card to the ground and crushed it under his heel. “When Acxa told me you had the guts to bring him here, I just had to come see for myself.”

“I said it before,” Allura snarled. “I’ll say it again. Stop talking to me this instant, or-.”

“Or you’ll what?” he taunted. “There’s nothing you can do. God, when did you turn into such a stupid whore?”

Swallowing down the urge to slam her fist into his face, she dug her nails into her palms so hard she left indents. The acquisition was more important, she reminded herself, over and over again. Lotor wasn’t worth the risk of spoiling all her father was working towards.

Thankfully, she heard Keith’s footsteps before he was able to make it past her to land a punch on Lotor’s chiselled jaw. “Back off, Keith,” she ordered, holding an arm out to stop his advance. As much as she appreciated him trying to defend her, she knew the consequences that would come with it.

“ _Allura_ ,” he said - a turbulent protest that betrayed the fury thundering inside him.

“If you lay one finger on Lotor, provoked or not, he will have you arrested and charged with aggravated assault,” she explained, keeping her eyes locked on Lotor’s the whole time. “Now, back off.”

Without another word, Keith distanced himself by a few paces. “Thank you,” she said, tucking her report card into one of her jacket pockets as she tried to remain in control of herself. “Now, Lotor, what do you want to say to me?”

“What do you know about him, princess?” Lotor asked, his sneer morphing into the predatory smile of a beast who knows its hunt will be a success.

“I’m not interested in discussing this.”

“Did you know that Keith Kogane has been expelled from every school he has ever attended?” he said. After she hesitated to reply, he shook his head in mock-disappointment. “ _Every single one_.”

“And why should I listen to anything that comes out of your wretched mouth?” she snapped, hoping that Keith would speak up. But he didn’t say anything to refute Lotor’s claims. She couldn’t even hear him breathe.

“Princess, do you honestly think I haven’t had some research done on your new fling? Do you think I don’t know exactly who you’ve been parading around town?” His smile widened, showing his dazzling teeth. “I have to make sure he’s treating you right, after all.”

She should have turned around, grabbed Keith’s arm, and walked away, but there was so much about Keith’s past that he had neglected to tell her, so many spaces that were missing in between his stories of Laura and his foster homes. The promise of finding out more kept her feet planted, and Lotor forged ahead, acutely aware that he had captured her interest.

“Even as a child, Keith was prone to violence.” Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet, pulled out a folded pile of papers, and made a show of skimming through them, as if he hadn’t planned every word he was going to say for whenever this moment came. “He had a volatile temper, according to this teacher’s note. This was in the third grade, after he was expelled for screaming some very nasty words at her, ripping posters from the classroom’s walls, and threatening his terrified classmates for the fifth time that month."

Keith’s silence was stark. She had never wanted someone to say something more, but she knew he wasn’t going to speak up. Because it was all true, and he wasn’t going to lie to her.

“It all goes on in a similar vein.” His voice took on a tone of boredom. “Keith gets angry. Keith gets violent. Keith gets expelled. Some other school is gracious enough to take him in, and he gets expelled _again_. He’s incapable of learning self-control.”

“Not anymore,” Keith said. His voice was the barest whisper. “I’m not like that anymore. I _did_ learn, and-.”

“Do you want to know the best one?” Lotor said. Allura’s stomach dropped. “Psychotic Keith here spent two months in a Juvenile Detention Center when he was twelve years old.”

Now she was going to hurl. No, she hadn’t known that. Lotor smirked at her reaction.

“Picture this. Seventh-grade Keith gets into an argument with an older boy on the schoolyard. Keith attacks him and breaks both of his arms. And when I say that, I mean that he _snapped both of his arms in half_.”

Lotor’s stare pinned her in place as her nausea grew. She was aware that children could be unreasonably violent. But that was beyond what any child with empathy should be capable of doing.

“That was an accident,” Keith finally said. “You don’t know anything about my life, you-.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell Allura after you lose your temper and she has the bruises to prove it?”

“I would _never_ hurt her.” What was strange was that Lotor was making her question that statement. She didn’t _really_ know Keith. Unlike what he had claimed about learning, he _did_ still lash out violently when he couldn’t control his temper – he had been kicked out of the Garrison less than a year ago for yelling at his teacher and breaking a door.

 “Go on then,” encouraged Lotor. “What’s your reason? What’s your _excuse_? I would love to hear it.”

“I have no excuses for my behaviour.” He spoke only to her, moving so that she could see him in her peripheral vision and ignoring Lotor entirely. “I’ve done what I’ve done, and nothing can change that. I’m not twelve years old anymore, and I regret hurting the people that I did.”

“I _will_ fight in self-defense,” he stated. “I _will_ fight to protect the people I care about. But my temper doesn’t rule me anymore, like it did when I was younger. I’ve learned that patience yields focus. I am more than my anger.” He said the last part as if it was a mantra.

She knew he had plenty of valid excuses that he wasn’t using. The trauma of a dead father and a childhood of physical and emotional abuse were enough to understand why any child would act out, in violence or not, but he didn’t even bring it up. There was no fire in his voice, only sober admittance as he took responsibility for his actions.

“Allura, I want to be honest with you.” She finally turned her head to meet his dark eyes. “I told you I went to school at the Garrison, but what I didn’t tell you is that I was kicked out after getting into a verbal fight with one of my commanding officers. It was an issue of discipline, not violence. If I could go back, I would do it differently.” 

He was looking at her so ardently, and she believed him. Maybe if he had yelled and blustered and tried to explain away everything she would have thought differently. Maybe if she had heard anger in his voice, and seen it in his shaking fists, she would have listened to Lotor. As she realized her vile ex-boyfriend was wholly capable of manipulating her, she saw the plain truth.

“There’s only one person here who threatened me,” she said. “There’s only one person here who kicked me out of his car. There’s only one person here who has treated me like shit, time and time again.” She paused, watching Lotor’s smile slip. “And it’s _not_ Keith.”

Despite his intricate planning, Lotor was the one who shook with rage. Lotor was the one who ground his teeth in frustration. Lotor was the one close to snapping, all because Keith hadn’t fallen into the magnificent trap he had laid. Keith didn’t even know that he was supposed to get uncontrollably angry at having his past revealed and beat poor, defenseless Lotor bloody in front of almost all of Rosenstern’s students, leaving her horrified. She should have guessed that was Lotor’s intention from the start.

“You’ve sunk so low, princess,” Lotor mused, his hateful gaze lingering on Keith. “I never thought the day would come where you would willingly fuck street filth instead of _me_.”

Fuck Lotor. Fuck the acquisition. Nothing in the world was worth letting him walk all over her like this.

 _Pick your battles._ She was going to end him.

“Oh, really?” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “You never imagined it when you stranded me in Fairbanks? You know when you came back for me, I was fucking him?”

“Wha-.” Scandalized, Keith tried to protest the lie, but she cut him off. Lotor could never stand anyone else having what he couldn’t. It was time to use his own plan against him.

“That’s right,” she continued, smiling as Lotor’s eyes flared - a sign that his anger was reaching its boiling point and he was going to explode with just the right prompting from her. “You were calling out for me and he had me up against the wall of some apartment building. When I heard you, I laughed.”

It was good enough. His fist flashed towards her face, but he was careless in his rage, forecasting every movement. For one, brief second, she considered letting the hit land before deciding against it. This looked bad enough on him as it was.

She heard screams before she dodged his first swing. On his second one, she caught his arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing him to his knees with the pressure she was exerting. “If you ever try to speak to me again, or if you even so much as stand within ten feet of me,” she whispered, so that only he could hear, “ _I_ will snap _your_ arm in half.”

Almost as soon as she forced him down, she let him go, putting on a show of stumbling backwards in terrified shock, like she couldn’t believe she had to defend herself. Keith was frozen in the act of reaching out for her, his arm hovering in the air before he sagged in relief at seeing her unharmed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Acxa yelled, breaking free from the crowd and getting in Lotor’s face. The rest of his friends turned on him as he babbled excuses and tried to blame Allura. Chaos reigned before Sherrie came marching down the steps with Principal Hawes - witnesses to everything.

“Lotor,” Sherrie shouted, her voice carrying across the yard and echoing. “Come with us right now!”

“Sherrie, I-.”

“Don’t say one word, young man.” Principal Hawes latched onto Lotor’s bicep and tugged him back to the school. “I’m calling your father and we’re going to have a little chat about your conduct.”  

“Allura, dear,” Sherrie said, placing her hands on Allura’s shoulders, “are you alright?”

“I’m quite shaken,” Allura said, her voice quivering, “but my boyfriend will take me home safely.” On cue, Keith came up and rested his hand on the small of her back.

“Sherrie, I would appreciate it if my father wasn’t informed of this,” she whispered. “He gets so worried about me and I don’t want to trouble him. I know that Zarkon will discipline Lotor appropriately.”

“Of course, dear. I know he’s a busy man.” Sherrie patted her cheek. “Now you get home and rest.” 

Sherrie faced the gathered crowd, and her voice changed from a concerned mother’s to a drill sergeant’s. “Everybody, clear out!”

“Let’s go,” Allura said to Keith, grabbing his hand and leading them to his motorcycle. Before they reached it, he pulled her to a stop.

“Wait,” he said. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Does it have to be now?” she asked, her tone harsh. He had omitted so much of his past from her, and she wasn’t over the fact that Lotor had been the one to tell her what she should have already known. 

“Yes.” He held both of her hands in his while she let out an irritated sigh. “I broke that kid’s arms on the schoolyard when I was twelve.”

“Can we not?” she interrupted. This was the last thing she wanted to hear about right now. He continued, heedless of her.

“He and his friends were bullying another kid in my grade. A kid like me, who wore the same dirty shirts four days in a row, who had no friends, who had to eat lunches provided by the school because his parents weren’t giving him any. I don’t even remember his name, but I remember how he had enough and tried to fight back one day, and I remember how the older kid broke his glasses and how he cried because his parents were going hit him for it, and I remember how the older kid was kicking him in the head and having fun doing it.”

He looked to the ground as he relived the memory. “I got angry, I started punching him, he put his arms up to defend himself, and I didn’t realize what I had done until he started screaming. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have told a teacher.”

“Keith, I understand,” she said. “I just wish that you would have told me before Lotor had the chance to. Finding out that you were in a Juvenile Detention Center was a horrible surprise, and it’s something that I should have heard from you first.”

“I know.” He brushed his thumbs across her knuckles. “And I’m sorry. There are parts of my past that I would rather forget about, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. When I got out of juvie, I was accepted to the Garrison. I was finally free from Laura. After that, things changed for me. I worked hard to change, with some help.”   

“I get it,” she assured him. “I do. You helped me after Lotor ditched me in Fairbanks. You didn’t lose your temper at Lotor just now. I’ve seen your anger, your joy, your sadness, and I get it.”

She wasn’t just saying it to make him feel better. To her, Keith’s present actions spoke louder than anything in his past could. Lotor had threatened to hurt her – he had _tried_ to hurt her. His accusations towards Keith of doing the same rang hollow.

“Thank you.” He swept her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

In his arms, she felt alright again. She leaned into his warmth and breathed in the familiar scent of his leather jacket, and when she thought of how Zarkon would react after hearing that Lotor tried to punch her, she smiled triumphantly. This wasn’t like all the times they had accidentally bruised each other sparring. Zarkon would take away his car and ground him for months.

Finally, she towed Keith to his motorcycle. It was best for them to leave before Lotor came back out. While she was getting ready for the ride by zipping up her jacket, she caught him staring at her... _strangely_.  

“What is it?” she asked, trying to make sense of his unusual expression.

“Nothing.” Immediately, he turned to his bike and pretended to fiddle with something on the seat.

“Tell me.” He sighed and faced her with pursed lips. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he looked everywhere _but_ at her.

“Keith,” she beseeched, crossing her arms and waiting.

He seemed to carefully consider his words before piercing her with his violet eyes and saying, “You just took down your ex-boyfriend and I can’t stop thinking about it, and I am _really_ turned on right now.”

“Oh,” she breathed, incapable of articulating anything more. Lines of fire licked across her skin, sweltering flames spread from her chest to her fingertips, and she was too hot and not hot enough. Something inside her started aching to be released.

“So, yeah,” Keith said. He cleared his throat. “Time for us to go.”

~

She was hyper-aware of how her chest moulded to his back, how her hands pressed against the hard planes of his stomach, how each of his movements was so graceful. He was driving her mad without even meaning to. Fevered want controlled her, and she was happy to let it.

It wasn’t fair how he could make her lose all of her inhibitions with only a few words. All she wanted was to touch him - to _taste_ him. She wanted to feel his skin underneath her fingertips, to follow the paths she traced along his torso with her tongue. She wanted to wring _filthy_ noises from his mouth. She wanted to make him want her so bad he could barely think straight.

Like her, right now. _She_ could barely think straight. Her brain was consumed with him. The rest of the world didn’t even register.

She must have been possessed as the motorcycle came to a stop at a red light – the last one before her house. That was the only explanation for why she was brave enough to trail her hand across his thigh. The only explanation for why she splayed her hand across the front of his jeans and squeezed lightly.

He stalled the motorcycle.

Rationality hit her, and she tried to pull her hand back, but not before he caught her wrist. “Keep going,” he said, his helmet muffling his voice. “If you want to.”

She did.

He didn’t drive any differently during the two minutes it took for them to reach her house. He even seemed more cautious than usual. But when he parked the bike in front of her house, he ripped off his helmet, hung it off a handlebar, and sagged forward, resting his elbows on the dash and leaning his head into his hands.

Sweat glistened on the back of his neck, his damp hair clinging to his skin. Hesitantly, she pulled her hand back and removed her helmet, clipping it to the back of the motorcycle. He stayed silent, ragged breathing notwithstanding, until she got off the bike.

“That was _dangerous_.” He spoke conversationally, but Allura caught the layers behind his words and her stomach fluttered. Dangerous to distract him while he was driving. Dangerous to arouse him too much. 

“How so?” she challenged, acting like she didn’t know he was rock-hard from her touch. In response, he tilted his head and looked up at her knowingly through his bangs before sliding off the bike and slinking forward. The smirk he gave her was wicked.

“I think you know,” he said, his voice lower than she’d ever heard it. 

“I don’t think I do.” Each step she took backwards, he followed with one of his. “You should show me.”

Lust teemed in his dilated pupils. “I will,” he promised. Her heart stuttered, then started to beat twice as fast.

As soon as they were through the front door, he caught her waist from behind. She gasped, and then he was running his mouth over the side of her neck, covering her skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. His hands slid under her shirt and dug into her stomach, pulling her body tight to his.  

Elizabeth had forgotten to turn off the radio off before she went home, and quiet, jazz music was filtering in from the kitchen. She didn’t even hear it as Keith’s fingers climbed up to her ribs and lingered there. Nothing had ever prepared her for the hunger she was feeling, the overwhelming _need_.    

As he kissed her neck, he started grinding against her ass in a slow tempo, and the lines of fire inside her erupted into an inferno. She had never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not _for_ anyone.

“Are you hard for _me_?” she breathed, deciding how best to initiate what she had been thinking about since Rosenstern. Fighting down her apprehension, she reached behind her back and let her fingertips rest on his clothed thigh.

“Yes.” His answer was almost a whine. Like on the motorcycle, she dragged her hand closer to his crotch until she heard his breath hitch in anticipation. When she slipped her hand underneath the waistband of his jeans and palmed him through the thin fabric of his boxers, he moaned - a raw, visceral sound like nothing she had ever heard.

His mouth was still working on her neck, leaving marks that she would have to use makeup to cover tomorrow. She stroked him until he lost his concentration and let his forehead loll on her shoulder as he fought to stay standing, grunting at each squeeze of her fingers. And still, she wanted to go further.

Taking a breath, she willed herself to be confident. “Sit down.”

“Whatever you say,” he acquiesced, sounding strained. She removed her hand and he slumped back onto one of the antique chairs decorating the hall, unable to take his smoldering eyes off her. As he gripped the armrests with white knuckles, she leaned down to capture his mouth in a slow kiss.

Pretending that she knew what she was doing, she kissed down his neck to his collarbone, sliding his shirt up and dragging her fingers along his tensed stomach at the same time. When she pressed her lips to his sternum, he jolted. When she passed her tongue over the hard ridges of his abdomen, he swore and clenched the armrests so hard the wood groaned.

“Please,” he gasped. His breaths came out broken, like he couldn’t remember how to let air escape his lungs. She didn’t need to fake her confidence anymore, not when she was on her knees and Keith was an incoherent mess above her. Her fingers found his belt, and she started undoing the buckle as she sucked on the skin just below his navel. Then he went rigid.

“Allura, stop,” he said. Her stomach plummeted and she froze before looking up at him in confusion. But he wasn’t paying any attention to her.

His head was turned to the kitchen, to where the jazz on the radio had stopped and the news had started. Rejection coursed through her, bringing heated shame with it, and she couldn’t focus on what the announcer was saying.

“Kerberos...Shirogane...hostages...negotiations...two weeks ago...made available as public knowledge...”

“He’s back,” Keith said, voice shaking with incredulity. She had no idea what he was talking about. “He’s back. He’s back.”

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. The depth of the emotion he felt showed in his crumpled expression, and she knew that this wasn’t about her. For some reason, that didn’t make her feel much better.

He stood, pulling her up with him, and kissed the top of her head. “I have to go. Thank you. I am so sorry.”

“I don’t have time to...” he said, bolting to the door. “I have to go. I’ll explain everything later.”

She tried not to let her heartache show, but he must have seen it on her face. Rushing back to her, he caught her hands and clasped them to his chest. “I’m insane to be leaving you right now.” He brought her joined hands to his lips. “I know I am. But I have to.”

Then he was gone, and she was alone. All that was left of her raging fire was suffocating smoke.

Staring at the closed door, she adjusted her top and passed a hand over her hair, smoothing down any errant strands. She straightened her hunched shoulders. And when she felt like dropping to the floor and curling into a ball, she walked herself to the training room and practiced her kicks for the next five hours.


	15. The Lost Soldier

_“I wish I could go with you.” Keith scrutinized the cargo plane as the mechanics making sure it was in top shape for tomorrow’s flight crawled all over the dull, grey exterior. At 0500 hours, just before sunrise, Shiro would be seated in the cockpit. Five minutes later, he would be lifting off and heading for Kerberos with twenty other soldiers in the cabin._

_The peacekeeping mission was a covert one, and it was only supposed to last six months, but if things went wrong, command would probably extend it. Hell, if things went right, command would probably extend it. Ever since Shiro had told him about the mission, Keith had an uneasy feeling about the whole situation._

_Too little soldiers. Too little resources. Whatever the higher-ups were planning on accomplishing, he didn’t know how they were going to do it. He just hoped that after six months Shiro could come home safe._

_If the past five years were any indication, the time would go by fast. It didn’t feel like that long ago when he was going to bed starving every night. Five years ago, Shiro had found him. Five years ago, he had found his place. His future._

_“You shouldn’t wish that,” Shiro said. He stood beside Keith, arms crossed as he oversaw the aircraft’s maintenance. “Kerberos is dangerous. The government’s taken back all the major cities and the civil war’s started to calm down, but no one really knows what the next day is going to bring. People need food and water, though, and we can’t leave them to die.”_

_“It doesn’t have to be you,” Keith protested. “Anyone else could pilot this piece of junk.”_

_“It has to be me.” Shiro allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”_

_Keith scowled. “I’m not worried.”_

_Shiro didn’t push it. “You’re an amazing pilot, Keith. You have a future ahead of you that most people can only dream of, and you’ve worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known to get yourself that future. When I’m gone, remember that you’ve become all that you are because of what’s inside you. Not because of me.”_

_“That sounds too much like a permanent goodbye.”_

_Shiro responded to Keith’s glare with a shrug. “I have to cover all my bases. You can try to plan for every possibility, but you never really know what’s going to happen on a mission.”_

_“You’re going to come back,” Keith said. “I know you are.”_

_Keith didn’t allow himself to consider what would happen if he didn’t. Though he would never burden Shiro with the knowledge, over the years Shiro had become the closest thing to family he would ever have. He couldn’t afford to lose someone else he cared about - he couldn’t handle that sort of haunting grief a second time._

_“I hope so.” Standing tall in his starched, impeccable uniform, Shiro looked every inch the respected officer that he was. But there was something in his gray eyes that was too old, that made his young face seem ancient and sent a shiver up Keith’s spine. When he blinked, it disappeared._

_“I don’t think you’ll need it, but good luck,” Keith said. Shiro was busy, and Sergeant Jeffries was coming to take him back to the Garrison soon. There was no reason to delay his goodbye any longer. Shiro grasped his outstretched hand and Keith pulled him in for a hug. “And don’t kid yourself. Without you, I don’t know what I would have become.”_

~

There was no way in. Not that he had thought there would be. Keith wasn’t operating under any delusions.

For hours, he had been staking out the Block 6 Military Compound. Night had fallen a long time ago, and he still hadn’t moved from his perch on the roof of an empty laundromat across the street. He watched and waited, his plans swinging from reasonable to desperate.

Right in the middle of downtown, Block 6 was a slab of concrete and barred windows. A tall, chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounded the whole compound, the only entry point guarded by soldiers with assault rifles. Every so often, a military vehicle would go in or out, carrying officers Keith didn’t recognize.

Shiro was in there. The Arus Military’s most sophisticated hospital sat inside those walls, and there was nowhere else he could be. Keith just had to get inside, and unfortunately, that was the hard part.

Sitting around had given him time to think, and any thoughts that weren’t about Shiro were about Allura. He could still feel her soft lips on his skin, roaming down his chest. He could still picture her kneeling in front of him.

He could still see the hurt on her face. And he couldn’t help the guilt that came with it.

According to the news, Shiro had been back for two weeks. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t have let Allura continue after hearing that. Once he started, he could never have stopped indulging himself in her. And he just didn’t have the time.

Shiro hadn’t tried to get in touch with him since he arrived. Something was wrong, and he was going to find out what. She would understand when he explained everything. At least, he hoped she would.

A military SUV came rolling down the street. Keith was ready. He grabbed the doormat he had stolen from someone’s front step, shimmied down the fire escape to the street, and crept to the fence.

The only way he was getting inside that building was if he got caught _trying_ to get inside. They would bring him in for questioning. He would think up the next part of his plan after that.

While the soldiers guarding the only entrance were distracted by the approaching SUV, he scaled the fence. Once he reached the barbed wire, he curled the doormat over it and climbed to the other side without a scratch. He was light, barely making a sound, and in the dark he was near-invisible.

The first soldier noticed him when he was fifty feet from the entrance, doormat discarded by the fence, walking casually with his hands open to show that he was carrying no weapons. The SUV had gone through already, and was idling by the front door.

“Stop right there,” the soldier commanded. “Hands on your head.” Keith complied.

“This is military property, not some cool place for you to explore and brag to your friends about, kid.” The soldier was severe, but more exasperated than angry. He hadn’t lifted the gun yet, but one wrong move and Keith would be staring down the barrel.

“I didn’t know,” Keith said, as flippantly as possible. “Sorry, sir.”

“Trespassing is some serious business, and there are serious consequences involved. We’re going to have to check you out.” Bringing him in was an intimidation tactic more than anything, Keith knew. As long as he was well-behaved and his entry was proven to be without intent, he would get away with just a fine.

The soldier came up behind him and prodded him with the butt of his rifle. “Start walking.” Keith was obeying the order when a tall, lean man stepped out of the SUV. His blond buzz cut was hidden by the cap he wore, but Keith would know that man anywhere. 

“Sergeant Jeffries!” Keith yelled so loud his voice cracked.

~

_“Arus Military Pilot Takashi Shirogane and his team of twenty were...” Keith lunged across the hall and snatched the phone from Ryan’s hands. He hadn’t heard anything since Shiro left five weeks ago. Not even Sergeant Jeffries would tell him what was going on._

_“Hey!” Ryan protested. “Give it back-.”_

_“Shut up,” Keith said, staring at the screen. Wisely, Ryan did just that._

_“...officially reported to the public as missing in action today.” The newscaster tried to convey sadness as she read from the teleprompter, but she could never feel how Keith did at that moment. To her, it was just another day, just another story, just another tragedy. But to Keith, it was everything._

_“A little over one month ago, Arus Military sent twenty soldiers on a peacekeeping mission to Kerberos, an oil-rich country in the grip of a devastating civil war. Communications with the team went silent shortly before they were scheduled to arrive in Kerberos’ capital. Commander Iverson of the Arus Military has stated that the outlook for their survival is not optimistic. Pilot error has been identified as the most likely cause of the mission failure. No comment has been made as to whether a crew will be dispatched to search for the plane wreckage. I’m Linda Michaelson of AANN, and we’ll be bringing you more updates as they come.”_

_Keith handed the phone back to Ryan. He tried to take a breath, but something was wrong. He couldn’t breathe right. He had forgotten how to breathe right._

_He was taking air into his lungs in shallow, audible gulps, and his heart was racing abnormally fast all of the sudden. Gripping the window sill to keep himself standing, he bent over, his chest heaving, his mind unfocused and flying in all different directions._

_“Shit, Kogane. Are you alright?” A hand touched his back._

_“Get off me!” he shouted. One of his elbows sent whoever it was reeling backwards._

_“We need to get Jeffries.”_

_“We need to get him to medical.”_

_“Jeffries is the only one who can do that now.”_

_Gone. Shiro was gone. But he couldn’t be. He was Shiro. He had never made an error in his life._

_Gone. Keith couldn’t feel his fingers. They were numb, and his head was light and he was dizzy. He could barely stand, but he didn’t want to stand anymore._

_“Keith.” Sergeant Jeffries placed a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Can you walk? Come with me.”_

_“You didn’t tell me,” Keith said, each word separated by a gulping breath. “He’s gone.”_

_“I didn’t know.” He hooked an arm around Keith’s waist and grabbed one of Keith’s limp arms, throwing it over his shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you to medical. You’re having a panic attack.”  
_

_“He’s not dead.” Jeffries didn’t respond. That was when he realized that missing in action had been the political way of reporting the incident. The military didn’t think their survival was just pessimistic – they thought it was impossible._

_“My chest hurts.” It was a stabbing pain, the only thing he could feel in his entire body. Jeffries was almost carrying him down the hallway. The world was splintering and Keith couldn’t make sense of anything._

_“We’re almost there. Keep it together, okay?” He finally sounded worried. When they reached the medical wing, Jeffries kicked the door open._

_“Get him a bed,” he ordered as the surprised nurse jumped to her feet. “Now.”_

~

“Keep your mouth shut, kid,” the soldier said, looking from Jeffries to Keith in confusion before ramping up his aggression.

“Sergeant Jeffries!” Keith yelled again, hoping that the man heard him. “It’s me.”

“I told you to shut it.” The soldier brought the butt of his rifle down against Keith’s face, leaving him with a split lip and an aching jaw.

“Leave him be, Private.” Jeffries covered the distance between them in long strides. “Speak of this to no one.”

“Yes, sir.” The Private saluted and returned to his post without comment.

Anger showed on Jefrries’ flushed face, so Keith decided to get in the first word. “I know he’s here. I need to see him.”

“If Iverson saw you, Keith...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Keith to understand how bad Iverson would have made it for him.

“You lied to me.” Despite all of his aptitude at hiding his emotions, Jeffries flinched. The radio announcement he had heard earlier played in Keith’s head.

_“The soldiers of the ill-fated Kerberos peacekeeping mission have returned home. As many of you may recall, last year twenty-one Arus Military soldiers went missing on their way to the war-torn country. They were presumed to have died in a plane crash with Pilot Takashi Shirogane at the helm, but Commander Iverson of the Arus Military has just given a full briefing to the media regarding the hostage negotiations that were ongoing with Kerberos rebels for almost the entire year. Two weeks ago, all of the soldiers, including Altea native Shirogane, were flown back to Arus. This information was just made available as public knowledge, and more details are expected to come to light in the future.”_

“You knew he wasn’t dead.” He had probably been negotiating Shiro’s release since the day the rebels had communicated with the military, before Keith had destroyed his future. 

“He might as well have been. There was no use getting your hopes up for nothing. Better for you to have grieved him once instead of twice.”

“I need to see him,” Keith repeated.

Jeffries nodded. “Follow me. Iverson’s arriving at noon. You have until then.”

~

_The panic stopped when he told himself that Shiro wasn’t actually dead. Of course he wasn’t. Shiro was one of the most talented pilots in the Arus Military._

_Shiro didn’t crash the plane. He didn’t make an error. Anyone who said he did was wrong._

_Lying on his side in the recovery position, he stared at the white curtain of the medical room, barely blinking. Jeffries and Iverson must have thought he was sleeping, and their quiet conversation erupted into loud whispers that carried over the curtain surrounding his cot._

_“You shouldn’t be babying him like this. He’s a soldier, and he needs to learn how to act like one,” Iverson said, his voice gruff._

_“He’s not a soldier yet.” Jeffries was talking back to Iverson with insolence Keith had never heard him dare use before. “He’s a kid – a kid who just lost his closest friend in the entire world. Let him grieve.”_

_“He’s an investment - one that we’re going to make a return on. Who even told him about Shirogane anyways? He was supposed to be kept in the dark.”_

_“Don’t ever call him an investment again.”_

_“He is an investment,” Iverson said, his annoyance with Jeffries plain. “He is an asset. Don’t make empty threats, Sergeant.” A few long seconds passed._

_“That’s what I thought,” Iverson said. “Let’s go.” They walked out of the room, the door clicked shut, and then Keith was alone.  
_

_The rage came back._

_He always knew it would, someday. No matter how hard he tried, he could always feel it there waiting to worm its way in again. It snaked around his heart and constricted, digging its fangs in and embedding itself there._

_This time it didn’t burn like fire. This time it burned like ice. And this time, he knew it would never go away._

~

“Did they really get back two weeks ago?” Keith asked. Jeffries led him through the corridors with a purposeful stride, one hand hard on Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s civilian clothes got a few strange looks, but Jeffries’ rank and proximity let the other personnel know that he was allowed to be there.  

“Yes.” Jeffries brows drew in as he thought about it. “Family members were only contacted four days ago, though. It was a sensitive situation.”

“What happened?” Keith had been waiting a whole year to ask that question.

“Shiro will want to tell you first, if he...” Jeffries trailed off for a moment, dragging a hand down his face and sighing. “Look, Keith, sometimes things happen to a person and they’re not the same as they were before. Shiro is strong – he’s always been strong. He’s gone through a lot and he’s coping exceptionally well, but he’s been affected more than he lets on. Just keep that in the back of your mind.”

Goosebumps raised on Keith’s arms. Whatever had happened, it was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. Jeffries’ troubled expression was easy to read, and Keith wanted to run until he reached Shiro’s door.  

~

_“Now, I know there have been a lot of rumours abounding,” Iverson said, pacing across the front of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “There was an official statement released to the press, and this statement contains the absolute truth of what we know. You’ve all heard it. Pilot error was behind the crash, not the Kerberos government or the rebels. I know that-.”_

_“Fuck you.” Keith stood up and his chair crashed to the floor behind him, shocking everyone in the classroom into stunned silence. His rage had been simmering for days, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer, not when Iverson was spinning his lies and pretending to care. Iverson’s mouth opened and closed, his astonishment overwhelming any anger he might have felt._

_“Fuck you,” Keith yelled again, just to make sure everyone heard it. “Shiro did not make a mistake.” Keith stared Iverson down, fists clenched. “Stop blaming him.”_

_“Sit down this instant, Kogane,” Iverson shouted. “That earns you detention after class for the next three months.”_

_“You’re a liar,” Keith shouted. He couldn’t stop now, not when his anger had taken control, not even when he knew how disappointed Shiro would be. “You’re all liars. He didn’t crash. He would never crash.”_

_“How dare you speak to me with such disrespect.” Iverson’s controlled demeanour was slipping._

_“Fuck you.” Keith held himself back from slamming his fists on his desk before he stalked to the door. “Fuck all of this.”_

_“Don’t you dare leave this classroom, Kogane.” An order from Iverson. If he disobeyed, everything was over._

_Keith didn’t even look behind him as he slammed the door shut. There was a cracking sound, and as he made his way down the hall people stared at him in horror, but he didn’t care. He walked to his room and sat on his bed until Jeffries came to take him to Iverson’s office._

_Jeffries didn’t need to say one word for Keith to know what he was thinking. He was disappointed, but Keith was already used to disappointing people – that was all he had done his entire life. The look on Jeffries’ face wouldn’t change anything._

_Inside his office, Iverson was sitting at his shining, walnut desk, the picture of serenity. “Apologize to me now, and in front of the class, and we will put this behind us,” he said. He glanced at Jeffries for a brief second. “I know Shirogane’s disappearance has been difficult for you to accept, and I understand how you feel.”_

_“No.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Keith,” Jeffries said, “if you don’t apologize, then the Garrison has no choice but to expel you. Commander Iverson’s involvement in this school is a privilege, as is mine, and we expect to be treated with the utmost respect.”_

_“I’m not apologizing.” Iverson’s eyebrows shot up. “Shiro deserves more respect than you do, and no one’s bothering to give it to him.”_

_“Then you’re expelled,” Iverson said. “What a goddamn waste. Pack your things and Jeffries will see you out.”_

_Through it all, Jeffries didn’t say anything. Once he was out of his uniform and his bag was slung over his shoulder, filled with his few belongings, the rage was gone and all Keith felt was shame. This wasn’t what Shiro wanted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go._

_When he walked out of the school, he saw Laura waiting for him, leaning against her black car and tapping her blood-red fingernails against her clipboard. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t anything._

_He looked back and caught his reflection in the glass doors. All he could see was a lost child, a chronic disappointment, a waste of time. Shiro shouldn’t have even bothered._

_Laura didn’t greet him. That was a small mercy. He got into the car and held his head in his hands, his regret large enough to swallow him whole._


	16. Reparations

Keith cracked open the door and peered into the dark hospital room. Before he stepped inside, he exhaled a final, calming breath and banished the nerves making his legs shake. He was excited to see Shiro, but he was anxious at the same time. One whole year had passed since they had stood together on the tarmac the day before the start of the Kerberos mission.

It seemed like forever ago. It seemed like someone else’s life.

He had so much to tell Shiro, he didn’t even know where to start. The Garrison, Allura, the Blades, his mom – he needed someone to talk to. He needed Shiro.

Jeffries was sitting outside the room, keeping watch for Iverson. If he arrived early and found Keith there, he would rain hell on all three of them. Keith couldn’t waste any more time standing around.

“Shiro?” he called out, a broken whisper that he expected to go unanswered.

“Yes?” Keith’s heart stopped, because it was Shiro. Though it was gravelly and full of exhaustion, his voice sounded the same. The bed creaked and a lamp clicked on, illuminating a corner of the room with yellow light.

Keith couldn’t help himself. He burst through the door and threw himself at Shiro, barely catching a glimpse of Shiro’s surprised face before jumping onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck, and pulling him into a tight hug.

“Good to see you, kid.” Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair with a hand, and Keith could hear the smile in his voice.

“I always told them you’d come back,” Keith said. “I told them they were wrong. I told them that you would never make a mistake. And you didn’t, and you’re here.” He clutched Shiro even tighter. “You’re actually here.”

“Well, most of me.” Keith pulled back to look at Shiro in confusion. Now he could see the scar slashed across the bridge of Shiro’s nose, pink and ragged, and the tuft of pure white hair hanging in front of his forehead.

“What-.” He choked on his words once he saw the hanging hospital sleeve. A wave of nausea rolled over him as he understood. “Where’s your arm?”

“Rotting somewhere in the Kerberos jungle,” Shiro said, as if he was unbothered by its loss. “They had to cut it off when the infection took over. Blood poisoning is a death sentence out there.”

“W-who did that?” Keith sputtered. He climbed off Shiro and grabbed a chair from the far wall, dragging it over to the side of the bed. “What happened to you?”

“The rebels knew we were coming. They were tipped off by someone inside the Kerberos government. Before I knew what was happening, they shot us down. I survived the crash, along with two others. We thought we were lucky.” Shiro swallowed thickly and looked down at where his arm used to be.

“I’ve been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder,” he continued. “The doctors have been telling me to try to think about other things, but all I can see are their faces. Every time I close my eyes, they’re swimming there. The old and the young, the strong and the weak – I see every single face.”

“I’m just glad to have you back,” Keith said, unsure of how else to respond. He didn’t know what Shiro was talking about – he didn’t think he wanted to know.

“If you knew I killed someone, what would you think of me?” Shiro’s eyes were home to something ancient again, like they had been the day before he left. A chill ran down Keith’s spine, making him shudder, and he found his gaze wandering the pastel pattern decorating the hospital sheets.

“I would think of you as Shiro,” Keith said. “I’ll always think of you as Shiro. You saved me from Laura and the system. You gave me more chances than I deserved to have. I would rather you were alive, and if you had to do whatever it took to stay alive, I would understand.”

Keith tried his best to stay in the present and not let his mind wander to places he didn’t want it to go. Sergeant Jeffries’ earlier comments started to make sense. What Shiro had been through was so horrible that he couldn’t even tell Keith about it. The scar, the prematurely white hair, the arm – they were all testaments to the violence he had both given and received.

“Thanks.” Shiro rubbed his forehead before tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can still feel my arm. Sometimes it’s so painful I can’t sleep. It’s all in my head, of course, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling real.”

“And they can’t do anything to help you?” Keith asked. He could hear the suffering in each word Shiro spoke, and it made him want to drag Jeffries into the room to hear it too. But what could he do after that? Yell and throw a tantrum until Jeffries magically did something to make Shiro feel better? This was Shiro’s journey, and all Keith could do was support him.

“They’re doing everything they can. It’s just me,” Shiro said. “Anyways, I’m getting a fancy, prosthetic arm. One of those high-end experimental ones.”

“So, how did you get in here?” Shiro spoke fast, before Keith could, trying to move onto a happier topic. “They’re not letting me talk to anyone outside this building, or else I would have reached out to you sooner. I’ve tried to convince them to let me contact you every day.”

“I hopped a fence,” Keith admitted. Under Shiro’s scrutinizing gaze, he realized how reckless his plan had been. “Fortunately, Jeffries arrived before I was detained for trespassing on government property.”

Shiro didn’t respond, so Keith said, “It was stupid. I know. I-”

“No,” Shiro interrupted, “it wasn’t stupid.” He smiled, but it didn’t erase the sadness lurking in his eyes. “Thank you for jumping the fence.”

Keith smiled back. “Anytime.”

They lapsed into a period of comfortable silence, and Keith decided not to tell Shiro everything. He didn’t need to be burdened with Keith’s problems – he had enough of his own. All that Shiro should be focused on was recovering from his trauma, not worrying about Keith. His expulsion was the only thing he needed to confess. Shiro would find out eventually, one way or the other.

“There’s something you should know,” Keith started, picking at the denim of his jeans and avoiding eye contact for as long as possible.

“Go on.”

Keith grimaced before saying, “I got booted from the Garrison for insubordination after yelling at Iverson in class.”

“I know,” Shiro stated. His stern, superior officer tone that he usually reserved for troublemakers made Keith cringe. “Jeffries told me the day I came out of surgery, while I was still high on morphine. Maybe he thought I would forget about it, but I gave him an earful. He helped shove you right back into Laura’s arms.”

“You’re not upset with me?” Keith couldn’t believe it. Shiro’s reaction was the exact opposite of how he had imagined this conversation would go. “You’re not angry?”

“I wish that you could have controlled your temper, but you didn’t.” Shiro shrugged. “Iverson should have been more lenient, or, barring that, Jeffries should have stepped in and stood up to Iverson afterwards. They’re the adults, not you. What’s ridiculous is that you were right, and you got kicked out for it.”

“I thought you wouldn’t forgive me,” Keith said. Guilt had been a knot in his gut for months, making him sick when he thought about how disappointed Shiro would be. “I thought you would be so mad that I wasted everything you helped me accomplish.”

“The Garrison was never your only path,” Shiro said, massaging his shoulder. “There’s a life outside of the military.”

“I can never fly again,” he continued. “I can never get my arm back. I can never rewrite the past and save everyone on that plane. But I can start again, like you did after you were expelled.”

“I never wanted to start again,” Keith scoffed. “My new foster parents were shit, like they all are, so I ran away and lived in the shadows for almost a year. The Garrison was supposed to be my future, and I messed it up.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Shiro said. “Maybe everyone just told you that so much you believed it. The Garrison was only supposed to get you away from Laura, nothing more. I never should have pushed you so hard.”

“You didn’t.” Keith gripped the railing on the side of the bed with white knuckles. “I belonged at the Garrison, more than I’d belonged anywhere since my dad died. Without you pushing me, I never would have made it this far.”

“I promised myself that I would look after you,” Shiro said. “I promised myself that Laura would never hurt you again. And I failed. Now, where do you belong? On the streets, picking pockets to survive without drawing Laura’s attention? All of this is my fault.”

“No,” Keith blurted out. “I belong...” _With Allura_.

More than he had belonged at the Garrison. More than he belonged in the driver’s seat. More than he ever thought he would belong anywhere ever again.

“I’m right where I need to be,” Keith said, his conviction making Shiro raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

“What _have_ you been up to lately?” Shiro prodded, sensing that Keith had more to divulge.

“I met a girl. She’s amazing. It’s serious.” That about summed it up.

“Really?” Shiro asked, somewhat sceptical.

“Allura,” Keith offered. Shiro’s mouth moved, but words didn’t come out. “Yes, the Voltron heiress,” Keith confirmed. “I know it seems impossible.”

“ _How?_ ” Disbelief still lingered in Shiro’s voice.

“Her boyfriend, some douchebag named Lotor, ditched her in Fairbanks late at night. Some thugs tried to rob her and I helped her get away. After that, she reached out to me and we started hanging out. Things moved pretty fast.” Shiro nodded to himself, evidently deciding that Keith wasn’t lying. And technically, he wasn’t.

“What’s she like?” Shiro inquired, trying to tease out more details.

“Incredible. Kind. Smart. Strong.” Keith paused, before admitting, “I think she could beat me up, honestly.”

“And she’s beautiful,” he added, just because it was the truth. “And she got Laura fired. Listen to this...”

Keith told Shiro what he could, glossing over the Blades, his hospital visit, Kolivan, and his mom. He probably could have talked about Allura for hours, but Jeffries’ sharp knock on the door signalled that he had exactly fifteen minutes before he had to leave. As soon as he heard the knock, Shiro grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from the bedside table.

“Don’t look,” he said. Keith dutifully turned his head and listened as Shiro balanced the pad of paper on his lap and scribbled something down. After he ripped off the top sheet of paper and folded into a tiny square, he pressed it into Keith’s hand. “This is for Allura. Give it to her when you have the chance, and do not read it.”

“I will,” Keith promised, tucking the paper into his pocket. “And I won’t.”

“I’m going to be in here for a while.” Shiro sighed, scanning the four blank walls that would be his home for the next few months. “There are tests they have to run, physiotherapy sessions I have to attend, and debriefings I have to give. Trapped in this room, I can’t help you. I can’t protect you. I can’t do anything.”

“I’m fine,” Keith lied. “All I want is for you to recover. Once you get out, we can spend some time together.”

“Just be safe,” Shiro said. “This is confidential, so don’t tell anyone, but the situation is getting worse in Kerberos. There’s no stability, and the conflict is leaking into the surrounding countries. I saw it firsthand. Balmera looks bad. Things might blow up soon, and I don’t know how it’s going to affect Arus.”

“I’ll try,” Keith said.

Shiro gave him a wry smile. “Well, as safe as you’re capable of keeping yourself.”

“Not so safe, then.” Rolling his eyes, Shiro lifted his hand and Keith clasped it tightly.

“I’m proud of you, Keith. I always will be.” Blinking back tears, Keith nodded.

“I missed you,” Keith said, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “And I’m glad our last goodbye wasn’t permanent.”

“I missed you too,” Shiro said. “And this time, I promise that this goodbye is only temporary.”

~

“I’m sorry.” Keith stared wide-eyed at Jeffries.

“What?” he said, astonished that the man had even said one more word to him.

“I should have fought for you.” Jeffries kept his gaze fixed on the end of the hallway. “I should have made Iverson go easier on you, and I didn’t.”

“I heard you talking to Iverson, that day in the medical wing.” The threat of Iverson’s discipline had forced Jeffries to keep his mouth shut, and Keith understood. “I know you tried.”

“Sometimes trying isn’t enough.” Jeffries clenched his fists at his sides, uncharacteristically emotional. “I should have done more.”

“And for the next kid you will,” Keith said. “That’s good enough for me.”

“For the next kid I will,” Jeffries affirmed, and Keith knew he meant it.

Once they reached the street, Jeffries gripped Keith’s shoulders. “Remember, Keith, you were born to be in the sky. You’re a good kid, and you have a big heart. Don’t let anyone try to tell you anything else.”

Keith nodded. “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“Take care.” A pat on the shoulders, and Jeffries was walking the other way. And Keith wondered whether this would be the last time he ever saw him. He hoped not. His life was full of last times already.

After he reached his bike, a bone-deep exhaustion overcame him. Alone with his problems, all he could do was sit and stare up at the cloudy afternoon sky. He couldn’t tell Allura or Shiro about anything that had been happening.

The truth was churning his insides, and staying silent was his only course of action. So he thought about anything else, about how Shiro was home and safe, and how Allura was probably waiting for him and seething. Then he didn’t feel so bad. Then he felt like he could triumph over anything life threw at him. Slamming on his helmet and starting his bike, he sped back to Allura’s house, and when he walked through the front door, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too long to come out, and I'm sorry for that. I've been insanely busy with work, school, and life, as well as being a little uninspired. I really want to thank everyone for their encouraging comments. I thrive off them, honestly, and they've really motivated me. I also want to say thank you to all of my readers for over 7000 hits and 400 kudos! It still amazes me and I'm glad to be writing a story that so many people enjoy.


	17. Reparations Pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the break, this chapter is pure, explicit smut. You have been warned.

Allura was sitting at her desk, clicking through some gossip website on her laptop when he opened the door. She stiffened before turning her head and peering at him through the curtain of her hair. A quick scan and she pivoted back to whatever was on the screen, ignoring him entirely.

He played with the zipper on his jacket, sliding it up and down and filling the near-silent room with the sound. “I-.”

“Pidge, Lance, and Hunk are coming over to hang out,” she interrupted. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”

Keith grimaced as he decided how to proceed. She was angry, and she had a right to be angry, and this really wasn’t the time to explain his entire, sorry past to her. So, with some trepidation, he decided to skirt the subject for now, hoping that she would be open to a _long_ talk later tonight.

“I guess I should take a shower then.” No acknowledgement from Allura, as he expected. He stared at the back of her head, thinking of how to make things right between them, how to apologize. Then he had an idea – a stupid idea, one that would either get him slapped or...not slapped.

“Do you want to join me?” This time, she turned around in her chair slowly, in a way that Keith could have described as menacing. His stomach dropped.

 _Shit._ He was going to get slapped. And he deserved to.

“Fine,” she said, and he blinked in surprise. Her neutral expression betrayed nothing, and he didn’t think his heart could possibly beat any faster. 

“Alright,” he said, mostly to himself, as she stalked to the bathroom, not sparing one glance for him as he stood glued to the floor. The shower started and he forced himself to take a tentative step.

He could not fuck this up – _would_ not fuck this up. Allura was too important. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he was _not_ going to disappoint her again.

~

After squaring his shoulders, he made his way to the bathroom. Steam was already starting to gather, fogging over the mirror and the glass shower doors. And then it was like he couldn’t even see the excessive elegance - the white marble tiles or the golden taps - that always made him ogle, not when he noticed her shirt lying on the floor, not when he saw her standing right there, half-dressed.

Facing away from him, she gathered the wavy mass of her white hair over one shoulder before she reached behind her back to undo the clasp of her lacy bra. Transfixed, he stared as she slid the straps down her arms, letting it fall to join her shirt. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look away into the mirror as he took off his jacket.

His resolve wasn’t very strong. Sneaking another glimpse at the smooth expanse of her bare back, he gripped the edge of the counter and willed himself to think rationally. First, they actually had to make it _into_ the shower. But the wall looked appealing. In his aroused state, even the floor seemed like a good option.

He pulled his shirt over his head and combed his fingers through his greasy hair. A flash of movement caught his eye, and he noticed Allura in the mirror’s reflection. He couldn’t help but watch her undress. When she was completely naked, her slim waist and generous curves on full display, he was enthralled, and there was nothing in the world that could tear his attention from her.

She caught him, though, and he wasn’t ashamed when she did. Looking over her shoulder, her blue eyes met his in the mirror and burned with a challenge that he was all too willing to accept. He stepped out of his pants, and then his boxers, until he was left equally naked. His erection stood proud, and her eyes widened when they shifted downward to take in all of him for the first time.

Almost flustered, she turned away, until her hair obscured what he had seen of her face. She was nervous, her arms folded over her stomach and her breaths coming out quick. He couldn’t blame her, because nervous didn’t even begin to describe what _he_ was feeling, and he was trying very hard not to move too fast and overwhelm her.

Taking slow steps, he pressed the whole front of his body to her back, not bothering to disguise how much he wanted her. She needed to know, to _feel_ what the sight of her did to him. Yesterday, when he ran out on her, that had not been rejection. There would never be a universe where he _didn’t_ want her more than he wanted to take his next breath.

Nuzzling her shoulder through her soft hair, he rubbed her upper arms in a soothing gesture. After he felt her tensed muscles relax, he slid his hands down to her forearms and gently urged her to unfold them. She followed his lead, and brought her arms down to her sides so that he could twine their fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the instant he spoke, he knew it wasn’t enough. “I can explain.”

“Later,” she said. “Just...we can talk about it later. After.”

“Whatever you say,” he acquiesced. He kissed the line of her jaw, strands of her hair catching on his lips. Inhaling the intoxicating, vanilla scent of her perfume, he spread his hands out across her waist and dragged them upwards cautiously.  

“Keep going,” she prompted after he stilled his advance, his fingertips lingering on her ribcage, where he had always stopped before. He obliged her, palming both of her breasts and biting back a smug grin when she arched her chest into his hands with a subdued gasp.

“I’m so lucky to even get the chance to touch you,” he said. Her heart pounded underneath her skin, and he could feel every single, fluttering beat. “And I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Better than Lotor ever had, at least. Though that probably wouldn’t be much of an accomplishment.

“Prove it,” she murmured, and his blood caught on fire.

“Gladly.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and twisted them so that they were facing the mirror. Their silhouettes were barely visible through the fogged-over glass, but she watched in rapt silence as he squeezed one of her breasts and trailed his other hand lower and lower. When he brushed a solitary finger against her clit, she jolted at the sensation. “But first, I need to wash my hair.”

It was a risky move, but as soon as he stepped inside the shower doors and underneath the stream of hot water, she was on him, grabbing his arms and pinning him against the tiled wall. She kissed him with glorious anger, sinking her manicured fingernails into his biceps and not caring when their teeth clashed.

Trapped between their slick bodies, his cock ground against her stomach, the delicious friction making him moan into her mouth. She latched onto his collarbone, sucking harshly to leave a pattern of bright red marks. Nipping at his earlobe, she finally confessed: “I am so mad at you.”

“I know,” he said. “You should be.” Soon, though, after discharging her fury, her clawed fingers left his arms to card through his wet hair. Sighing, she melted against him, her rough fumbles slowing to gentle caresses.

“I do still need to clean up,” he reminded her, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. With reluctance, she pulled away and drew her index finger down his sternum.

“Let me,” she ordered. All he could do was nod, peeling his back from the wall and turning around. From behind, she lathered shampoo into his hair and massaged his scalp, the soap streaming down his skin as the water washed it out. He was in bliss as her confident hands roamed his body, traversing the panes of his shoulder blades, his prominent ribs, his muscled abdomen, her downward path making her destination obvious.

Before she wrapped her hand around his throbbing erection, she hesitated, as if she wasn’t entirely sure of herself. The next moment, though, she folded her fingers around his shaft and started stroking. “Is this okay?” she asked, a slight tremor upsetting the words.

“Yes.” His voice came out so low he didn’t even recognize it. Bracing his hands against the tiles, he bowed his head and watched her ministrations. This wasn’t a first for him, but it might as well have been given how his body was reacting. Quicker than he thought was possible, he was reaching his peak, bucking his hips as he sought more of the ecstasy making his brain combust.

He couldn’t help himself from covering her hand with his, showing her what he needed to attain his release. Firmer. Faster. Until he saw white and let out a hoarse cry as he came all over her dainty fingers. The sight was enough to make him collapse, his knees weak and his head light, but he managed to hold himself up and clench his eyes shut, regaining his strength with each shallow breath he took.

Panting, he faced her, sweeping his dark bangs out of his vision with one hand and reaching for her with the other. As she saw the hunger in his expression, her eyes flared wide.

“Your turn.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, capturing her lips in a searing kiss and slinging an arm about her waist to draw her close. As his tongue delved into her mouth, he urged her thighs apart and glided a finger along her folds.

“So wet,” he teased, smirking against her cheek and rubbing her clit until she threw her head back, lips parted and brows furrowed. Grasping at the wall, she found purchase on a ledge holding bottles of soaps and gels, knocking them to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Sorry,” she started. “I-.” He pushed his finger deep inside her and she forgot what she was going to say, letting out a breathless moan instead.  

“Don’t worry about it.” She tried to come up with a retort, but he started moving his hand and she was lost to her growing pleasure.  

“Feeling good?” he asked, lips resting on her temple. He felt her give a jerky nod. “Ready to feel even better?”

She grunted something in affirmation. “Get a good hold on that ledge,” he said, before dropping to his knees. She didn’t expect it when he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, his hand spreading out across her back to steady her. She definitely didn’t expect it when he kissed her inner thigh all the way up to its apex, before swiping his tongue across the sensitive flesh there.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, knees trembling as he continued to taste her, pumping his finger deeper inside her at a steady rhythm. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of this whole situation being time-sensitive, and as much as he wanted to prolong Allura’s orgasm, until she was writhing and begging, he also wanted to see how fast he could get her off.

To his pride, it turned out to be pretty fast. She had already started to grind against his face when he sucked on her clit, added a second finger to the first one, and increased his pace. Within seconds she came, moaning his name, her body flushed and rigid as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

Coming down from her high, she sagged against the wall and he stood again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he admired her. Nothing could compare to how beautiful she was, especially in that moment. Her glazed eyes found his growing erection, and unconsciously, she spread her legs wider. His mind raced with all the possibilities that were set out before him, but he had promised himself that he was going to take this slow. To make sure he did everything right. For himself. For her.

So he reached behind his back, found the shower handle, and cranked it hard to the right. The freezing water rained down like ice pellets, and the bathroom echoed with the sound of Allura’s shriek.  


	18. A (Fun) Night

The doorbell rang for the second time and Allura rushed down the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other holding the final, wayward strand of her damp hair. In front of the entrance hallway’s mirror, she paused to stick the last bobby pin in place. After turning her head to inspect the back, she decided her messy bun was satisfactory and nodded to Keith.

“So I _can_ open the door now?” he inquired, eyebrow raised. For the last few minutes he had been standing there, following her instructions not to let anyone in until she was presentable. His hair was still dripping water, the ends plastered to his neck and soaking his shirt collar, and he had never looked more tempting.

Distracted, she watched as a droplet snaked down the strong column of his throat. Without thinking, she leaned forward to lick it off and grinned when she was rewarded with one of his low, sinful moans.

Her entire body still tingled from his deft fingers, but she hadn’t forgotten how he had disappeared for an entire twenty-four hours. Or how she had stayed up all night worrying. Or how she had to use a generous amount of concealer to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes.

And she _most_ _certainly_ hadn’t forgotten how angry she was.

“Open the door,” she snapped, pulling back from him and shaking her clouded head clear. His lips pursed at the sharp change in her tone, but she didn’t let her glare falter until Lance catapulted through the door. 

“Pidge is a girl!” Lance declared, planting his feet on the floor. “Her real name is _Katie_. This whole time she’s been pretending and-.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Pidge said, stomping inside to give Lance a dirty look. “I’ve told you I prefer _Pidge_ a million times, but you never listen-.”

“I get it,” Lance said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Did you know her father _and_ her brother were part of the Kerberos mission? _And_ they both survived? They’re like heroes or something now. How cool is that?”

“What?” Keith exclaimed, eyes flaring in shock. “I kn-.” He cut himself off and grabbed Pidge’s arm, steering her away from everyone else into the living room. Allura didn’t know what emotion she felt as he sat with Pidge on the couch and they dived into an intense conversation. A deep wrinkle formed in her brow as she tried and failed to make sense of everything that was happening.

She could have fainted when Shay walked through the door next, holding Hunk’s hand. “Shay, what are you doing here?” Allura asked, bewildered as she hugged the tall girl in greeting. “How do you and Hunk know each other?”

“To address your first question, I’ve decided to attend Rosenstern next semester,” Shay said, jittery with excitement. Hunk gazed at her, affection plain on his face. “I moved to Altea two weeks ago. Didn’t your father tell you? I was just talking to him at the office yesterday.”

Someone might as well have punched her in the gut. “No,” she said, freezing her smile in place before it could falter. “He’s staying downtown while the acquisition is finalized, and we’ve both been so busy that we haven’t been able to see each other too often.”

_Liar. Liar. Liar._

Forbidden tears threatened to form, but she held them back. She had to look good for the acquisition. She always had to look good, even when everything was wrong. Even when she wanted to fall to the ground and scream until she shook the house to its foundation.

“And now you’re dating Hunk?” she asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible. Fortunately, they were both more than happy to discuss their blossoming relationship. 

“Yes, she’s dating me,” Hunk supplied, lifting their entwined hands to emphasize how proud he was of that fact. Shay looked to the ground and blushed, still suffering from some shyness. “I was in a computer store and I heard this girl arguing with one of the workers about which build was the best for her new gaming PC-“

“I was the girl,” Shay chimed in.

“And she was right,” Hunk continued, “so I backed her up and we had an epic argument before the manager kicked us out of the store.”

“Then he asked me to go for a coffee,” Shay said, beaming at the memory. “Obviously, I said yes, and here we are. We wanted to surprise you, but I hope it’s okay that I showed up.”

“I couldn’t be happier to see you,” Allura assured her. A fun night with friends was exactly what she needed. Especially now that her father was on her mind.

“Hurry up!” Lance shouted from wherever he had wandered off to. “The pool’s waiting for us.”

“Oh, I’m coming!” Shay shouted back. “Allura?”

“I’ll join you after I order the pizza.” Stressing about Keith had sapped her appetite for the better part of the day, but now her stomach was starting to rumble.

“Don’t bother about the pizza,” Hunk said. “If you have everything, I can whip up a delicious stir fry in the same amount of time.”

“Well, yes, I have every ingredient you would ever need.” She was already salivating. “I would love that, but you really don’t have to-.”

“He’s an amazing cook,” Shay said. “I swear.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Allura waved Hunk forward, relenting happily. “Follow me. The kitchen’s on the way to the pool.”

Before she left the room, she snuck a glance at Keith and Pidge, still conversing in hushed tones, their heads bowed together. Turning away as quick as she had looked, she led Hunk to the kitchen and Shay to the pool, pointing out the cabana she could get changed in. She gathered that Lance was already in the water from the rapidly-moving snorkel sticking out from below the surface.

Hunk was rifling through the spice rack when she returned, plucking out this one and that one, and squinting at the labels in deep consideration. The successful ones were lined up in a row on the counter, in something resembling an order. Like a seasoned professional, he handled every utensil and ingredient with obvious comfort.

“So, what’s up with you two?” Hunk asked, catching her very off-guard as he dabbled oil on a pan and starting frying chicken on the stovetop.

“What do you mean?” Her stomach jumped. Had Hunk guessed she and Keith were fighting? Did he figure out they had just taken a shower together? Did he know anything else? What if-.

“You guys are dating, right?” he elaborated. “Like, is he living here?” She visibly relaxed, sighing in what she hoped was a discrete manner.

“We’ve been dating for about a month,” she said. The next part, she had to lie about. Hunk was directly connected to Shay, who was directly connected to her father, who would definitely have some serious complaints about Keith’s ongoing presence in his home.

“And no, he’s not living with me.” She made sure to let out a convincing, shy giggle, as if the very thought was embarrassing. “He has his own apartment. A little closer to Fairbanks than he would like, but the rent’s very affordable.”

“Cool,” Hunk said. Before their conversation could continue, the subject of it strolled through the door and leaned against the counter.

“Need any help?” Keith asked, trying to catch her eye and utterly failing as she pointedly stared out at the pool, where Pidge had joined Shay and Lance. She wasn’t sure what they were doing, but Pidge was on Shay’s shoulders and Lance was splashing them with vigour.

Then Pidge fell over backwards, overwhelmed by Lance’s onslaught. She took Shay down with her, both of their faces filled with dismay as they hit the water, arms cartwheeling. Lance pumped a fist in triumph. Unbeknownst to her, Keith and Hunk were watching too, and they all broke out into a fit of laughter simultaneously.

“You can cut the vegetables,” Hunk told Keith, once their ruckus had dissipated.

“ _Alright_.” Keith sounded a little too happy to be using a knife as he slid a large one out of the drawer. Flipping it in the air and catching it with practiced ease, he winked at her and she scowled back.

Playful expression fading, he stood at the cutting board and stared dismally down at the counter, where Hunk already had the peppers and onions waiting. When he started, his hands moved fast, the knife almost a blur, and even Hunk was impressed as he stopped what he was doing to watch.   

“You’re good at that,” Hunk commented.

“Thanks.” The ensuing, proud smile that crossed Keith’s face made her feel guilty for being so cold. But he had left her. Not just for a few minutes, or an hour, or even a few hours.

He had left her for an entire night, _and_ she hadn’t known where he was. She had sat in the living room until after the morning sun rose, looking out the window and searching for the headlights of his motorcycle, listening for its earth-shaking rumble. Hoping that he was alright – that he _would_ come back.

As Keith set down the knife, his eyes met hers. And there was such contrition in them, such open tenderness that she allowed herself to give him a tight smile. Earlier, she had shut him down for trying to talk to her, but now they needed it _. She_ needed it. So much that it felt like someone had ripped her heart out only to start carving it into pieces, ensuring that she felt each deliberate slice.

Then Hunk said something and the moment was gone. She started the rice in the steamer, to the sounds of the happy trio splashing in the pool. Today, she was going to have fun. Tonight, she would listen to what Keith had to say.

And she begged the universe that it would be enough to let her anger subside.

~

The stars were brilliant and the moon was full, casting her entire yard in an unearthly glow. Sitting side-by-side on the peak of her roof, she and Keith could see most of the neighbourhood and beyond - the soft lights shining through windows, the sway of trees in the warm breeze. To her vast amusement, they could still see Pidge, Shay, Hunk, and Lance sitting by the fire in the middle of the patio far below them, coolers in hand as their drunken laughter drifted upwards.

Neither of them had said a word yet. She had beckoned Keith and he had followed without hesitation when she went to the balcony on the top floor, stood on the marble railing, and climbed up. The silence was comfortable, and she was almost scared to ruin it. But their hands were still apart instead of intertwined, and the tension between them was crackling.

“When my dad died, I was sent to an orphanage until a family could foster me.” Keith stared at the night sky, melancholic as he relived the past. “It wasn’t a very nice place. The workers there were cruel, with very little empathy for sad, hurt kids who had lost everything.”

He sighed. “I acted out. I fought. I wouldn’t do anything they said, and every single worker hated me for it. But there was one older boy there, Shiro, who all the other kids listened to. He took care of them. He tucked them into bed. He risked getting caught out of his room after curfew to tell them stories at night – these happy, funny stories that he could just make up in his head.”

“I hated him at first, for being kind to me. For trying to tell me what to do so I didn’t get yelled at. For trying to take the fall for my mistakes so I wouldn’t get in trouble.” He crossed his arms over his knees and folded in, making himself smaller and smaller. If this was a bid for sympathy, it was working. She wanted to hold onto him and never let go.

“Honestly, I really just hated him for trying to be someone like my dad.” The first traces of tears started to gather in the corners of her eyes. “But he never _stopped_ trying. Eventually, he broke through my walls and won me over, just like he had with the rest of them, and I looked up to him _so_ much.”

Keith’s voice shook, but just barely. “Then one day he got adopted, and he was...gone. And I went right back to being the disobedient, miserable brat the workers all couldn’t wait to get rid of. I went through foster home after foster home, but nothing stuck, and I got angrier and angrier. You know what happened after that.”

She nodded, trying not to blink too rapidly and give away that she was starting to cry. After that, he broke a kid’s arms and went to a juvenile detention center. Then, after that, he said things changed for him. Now, she guessed that she was going to find out just how that had happened.

“A few days after I got out of juvie, I shoplifted a few chocolate bars from a corner store." Keith shook his head at the memory, as if he was disappointed in his younger self. "Shiro happened to be there and he saw me do it, but I didn’t realize it was him until he stopped me outside the store. To make a long story short, he recognized me right away, made me return the chocolate bars and apologize to the cashier, and then took me out for dinner at some small diner.”

“I told him about my abusive foster parents." Muted pain flashed across his features. "No one ever listened, but he did, and...I had never felt so _important_. Like someone actually cared about me again.”

A lone tear trickled down her cheek, and she knew more would follow. “Afterwards," Keith continued, "Shiro told me about his career in the military and his involvement with the Garrison. He could get me in, but it was my choice. I had nothing to lose, so I took him up on the offer. There were a few problems of my own making, but he defended me through it all, even when I didn’t deserve it."

"Soon, I excelled. I surpassed everyone's expectations. I had a future." He clenched his hands into fists. "Then everything went wrong.”

“Last year, Shiro led the ill-fated Kerberos mission everyone’s heard about." His conversation with Pidge made complete sense now. Their loved ones had suffered, and they had just been returned to them. "When things went bad, the military publicly blamed _Takashi Shirogane_ for the mission failure. I got kicked out of the Garrison because I challenged the official statement in front of my superior officers and my peers. Any subordination, for whatever reason, is not treated kindly there.”

His dark eyes shifted from the stars to her. “Yesterday, when I heard that he was back, I had to find him. This whole time, I never stopped believing that he would come back, just like he never stopped believing in me.”

Her tears won. She covered her face with her hands and bawled - loud and messy, and when she tried to stop she just _couldn’t_. 

“I’m so sorry, Allura,” Keith said, alarmed. “I should have told you more. I should have let you know why I was leaving, and I’m not making any excuses for myself. When-.”

“I feel so guilty,” she blubbered, “that I’ve been mad at you for going to see Shiro. I should have known you were leaving for something important. I'm so selfish, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“No,” he said, reaching a hand out to massage one of her shaking shoulders. “All of this is on me. Don’t feel sorry, or selfish, because I’m in the wrong. I kept things from you that I shouldn’t have.”

“Here.” He was frantic as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Shiro wrote you something. He told me not to look at it.”

With quivering hands, she grabbed the note and opened it.

_Allura,_

_I’m sure you know this by now, but Keith’s been alone for most of his life, with only himself to rely on. He’d never admit it, but sometimes he needs someone to take of care of him, and I’m grateful that someone has turned out to be you. There’s not much more I can say other than thank you. I’m looking forward to meeting you once I get out of the hospital, and until then, I wish you and Keith all the best._

_Shiro_

Maybe Keith thought whatever Shiro had written would make her feel better, but she only cried harder. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Tears for Keith, at first, but then tears for herself too, as she realized how lucky she was to have her father in her life.

She had always been loved. She had always been taken care of. And beyond that, she had been encouraged, inspired, and supported no matter what decisions she made. 

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked, as her tears grew more intense. “Is it something Shiro said?”

“No,” she blurted out. “Not really. It just made me think.”

“Please tell me why you’re crying,” he begged. By now, he knew her – he knew there was more. Reaching out, he swept some of her tear-soaked hair off her glistening face and cradled it in his large hand, running his thumb over her cheekbone, and she broke. She had kept everything tearing her apart inside for so long, and she needed to let it out.

“It’s my father,” she said through her sobs. “We’re in a fight. He started ignoring my texts and when I went to see him he got so angry at me for being worried. He hasn’t even tried to talk to me in over a month. I want to see him and I don’t know what to do, because _he_ was wrong and he’s the one that should be apologizing to _me_.”

Keith's thumb stopped moving over her cheek, and he was silent. So silent that she was beginning to worry she said something wrong. But then he cleared his throat.

“I’ve never been in the same situation,” he said, “and I know if I was you, I’d probably be just as upset. _But_ if my dad was here, and I still knew what I know now, I wouldn’t go one day without speaking to him. If I got the chance to have him back...I’d give up almost anything. I’d give up all of my anger without a thought. Some things are just more important than being angry. Not all of the time, but sometimes.”

It was like lightning had struck her. _Some things are just more important than being angry._

Sure, she _could_ be angry at her father forever. She had every right to be angry. But, she could also visit his office tomorrow and force him out for lunch at Adelina’s.

She could talk to him for the first time in weeks. She could make sure he was getting enough sleep, like she always did when he was at home. She could hear how the acquisition was proceeding. And just thinking about it was enough for her to make her decision.

“I’m going to visit my father tomorrow,” she stated. A weight lifted from her chest, so sudden she was breathless at its departure. Wiping her face dry, she nuzzled Keith's hand and met his kind gaze, even though she was somewhat embarrassed at how puffy her face was from crying.

“Thank you.” She took his hand from her cheek and kissed his warm palm before gathering it to her chest, where her heart beat solid and strong.

“No need to thank me,” he said, leaning into her and touching their foreheads together. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, her inner turmoil and blinding fury gone.

“I promise that I’m going to be more honest with you.” His lips skimmed hers. “Opening up about the past is difficult for me, but I _will_ try.” As he spoke, she could feel his mouth form each word. “For you, I will _always_ try.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic reached 500 kudos a little while ago, so I wanted to say thank you to everyone! Things are going to really ramp up in the next chapter, so stay tuned for the start of a wild ride.
> 
> FYI: I'm back on tumblr at kazura-writes, and I'll be there until the show ends.


	19. Poison Pill

Allura woke up to a violently ringing phone, the agitating sound piercing her skull and tempting her to toss it out the window. She resisted the impulse though, and, grumbling, she cracked open her eyes, turned it off, and snuggled into Keith’s chest again. He sighed and pulled her in closer, ghosting his lips over the shell of her ear.    

“It was like that for almost a minute,” he said, running his fingers through her hair soothingly. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear anything.”

“I’m tired,” she mumbled, even though she had little reason to be. Last night, Keith had graciously volunteered to shuttle their hungover friends home in the morning. He had already showered and driven downtown and back, based on the scent of soap clinging to his skin and his lively demeanour. “Besides, they were just annoying notifications from business sites I follow.”

“That’s an awful lot of annoying notifications.” The volume _was_ unusual, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was in a comfortable haze of sleep, and nothing could pry her from Keith.

“You’re talkative,” she said, a little suspicious. This early, he would usually be tiptoeing around the room to avoid waking her up instead of jumping back into bed and starting a conversation while she was half-conscious.

“I’m bored,” he admitted. “I’ve been up since five. Those three broke Garrison curfew by staying over last night and you should have heard the terrified screaming this morning when they realized it. Shay helped me calm them down, thank god, then after all that, they just went back to sleep until I dropped them off.”

“Thank you.” She kissed the sluggish pulse in his neck.

He reciprocated by kissing the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

Lazy mornings usually meant lazy afternoons and lazy evenings. She didn’t mind, but her school break would be over soon and her time with him would again be limited – _if_ he didn’t agree to the proposal she had. She startled wide awake, sitting up and almost hitting her head off his chin as she realized this was the best time to ask him.

“Since you’re being honest now...” Referring to their conversation last night, she smiled deviously and his expression shifted to one of wariness. “I’ve been thinking, and I could probably get you into Rosenstern next semester. It would be on a scholarship so you’d have to play on a sports team to get one, but you’re athletic and you’re probably really good at track and field or something, right? You could graduate within the year if you finished up your courses this summer.”

She couldn’t hide her bright-eyed eagerness. “So, what do you think?”

He gave her a crooked grin, and sounded quite proud when he said, “I graduated high school when I was sixteen. The Garrison fast-tracked me through all of my courses, so you’re dating a _college_ dropout.”

She blinked. Keith laughed, and she was too shocked to join in. Still grinning, he slung an arm around her shoulder. “But if I still needed to graduate, I would try the whole scholarship thing. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“You should be applying to schools right now,” she said, and his grin faded to something fearful. “Altea University has exceptional programs, and you could get in with my connections. We should go on a tour this week. My parents went there, and Zarkon. I know many of the professors already. I-.”

“Allura,” he interrupted, “I appreciate everything you’re saying, but I’m planning to work for a year and save up some money before making any big decisions. This is the first time in my life I’ve been truly free, and I need to learn more about myself and what I want.”

“Of course,” she said, enthusiasm wilting. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

“Not many people have ever bothered to care about my future.” He cradled her face with gentle hands, the rough pads of his fingers so warm against her skin. “You’re not presumptuous. I would love to attend Altea University with you, but I need to do some soul-searching first. I’ll always want to be with you – that’s not up for discussion.”

She responded by bringing her lips to his, her heart full of joy and... _love_. Of course this would be the first moment she ever admitted it to herself. When she was kissing Keith with chapped lips and morning breath and bedraggled hair.

She almost said it, too. When he pulled away just so he could look at her – to trace the contours of her face, her lips, her nose, the lines of her brow, with his dark eyes. But if she said it, maybe something would change between them. And she wanted everything to stay just as it was. 

“You’re beautiful,” he rumbled, before leaning in to trail his lips along her collarbone and up to her jaw.

She rolled her eyes and bit her lip to hide a smile. “I only had three hours of sleep last night, Keith.”

“Doesn’t matter.”  He kissed down her neck again as he encircled her waist with both hands.

“Would you do anything for me?” she asked, setting the bait for her trap.

“Yes." He dragged his lips across her bare shoulder.

“Then come shopping with me today,” she said, breaking the mood instantly. “You need some new clothes that fit.”

He leaned his head back and groaned. “You play dirty.”

She laughed and couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You have no idea.”

His eyebrows shot up, but she was already climbing off the bed. After washing her face and combing through her closet, she threw on a pair of distressed, low-cut skinny jeans and a navy lace crop-top, then clipped her hair half-up. Keith waited for her patiently, resigned to spending a day at the mall.

Her phone rang, bypassing the silence setting, and she dropped her mascara wand before sprinting across the room. There were only a few people and situations she had set up the bypass for, and sure enough, a notification showed breaking news about Voltron Inc. She tapped the icon, and when she was taken to the article, she thought it was a joke at first.  

_The Kerberos civil war has finally reached Balmera. This morning at 2am Standard Time, riots broke out across the small, mineral-rich country. Most significantly, the mines owned by Balmera Gold, the company recently acquired by the global conglomerate Voltron Inc., have been seized by the Balmeran government as state property. Rumours of government-sanctioned human rights violations have run rampant over the past year, and many are taking this new rebellion as confirmation. In lieu of the news, Voltron stock has declined in value by thirty percent, and now stands at the lowest it’s ever been since going public over twenty years ago. The stock is expected to keep dropping over the course of the day, and Voltron President and CEO, Alfor, is expected to speak to the media at 9am. This story is developing._

She clenched her hands so tight she thought she might break her phone. It didn’t make any sense. Galra Security had done the risk audit. Zarkon had personally inspected the mines. Any human rights violations and civil unrest would have been included in the ensuing report, and her father would never have decided to go through with the acquisition. So why was this happening? How had such a devastating mistake been made?

Her phone rang again, and this time was her father’s assistant, Vera. She accepted the call immediately.

“Hel-.” She was greeted with horrendous, gut-wrenching sobs.

“Vera, what’s wrong?” She spoke a little too loud, a little too rushed, and Keith vaulted over a chair to stand by her side, hovering in concern.

“It’s y-your father.” Allura could barely make out the words through Vera’s crying, but her fingers were already going numb and she hadn’t taken another breath, because nothing good could be coming. Nothing good ever started this way.

“H-he had a heart attack.” Vera’s sobs intensified. “His heart s-stopped.” Allura didn’t hear anything else because her phone slipped from her limp hand, then her knees gave out and she crumpled. Keith was there, and he caught her phone in one hand and her with the other.

She screamed, and the grating noise that came out of her mouth sounded like it should have belonged to someone else. A sharp echo of loss bouncing off the walls and drilling into her ears. After that, she could only hear her sobs, could only feel the cracks in her heart, could only see her father’s haggard face the last time she saw him in his office. The disappointment in his eyes. The frustration in his demeanour.

Keith’s angry voice was distant and fragmented, even though he was holding her up on her feet, his arm locked around her waist. “...sorry...have to tell me...please...just stop...what’s happening...which hospital...thank you.”

“Vera said he was taken by ambulance to the Central Hospital," Keith said, and she snapped back into the present, hearing him clearly. “They got him there fast enough that he could still make it.”

Her silence was telling. He hoisted her up so that her feet were off the ground and pulled her into a comforting hug, rocking her back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Allura.”

She sobbed in response, and he squeezed her tighter. “We have to go to the hospital. Do you think you can walk?”

She nodded and he set her down carefully. Her legs wobbled, but she leaned on him as they made it out of her house to her car. Keith drove to the hospital faster than she had thought possible. Then even though Keith was right beside her at the front entrance, she felt like she was alone as she stood staring at the revolving doors.

They never stopped rotating. Never stopped swallowing and spitting up patients and their caregivers. Right before she decided to take her first step forward, a family came through. A mother, a father, and a little girl. All three of them smiling and happy. Everything she wished she could be. And for the first time, she knew true misery.  

 

~

 

Coran was there, standing amongst the stark white floors and tepid yellow walls and the nauseating scent of antiseptic. When she saw his mournful expression through her blurry tears, she cried even harder and left Keith’s arms to hug him. “I just returned from the Staff Management Conference today,” Coran said. “I was at the airport when I got the call.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she blubbered. Besides her, Coran knew her father better than anyone else. If he had been around to set both of them straight, their fight wouldn’t have went on for nearly as long. But he hadn’t been, and she hadn’t said a word to her father in weeks. And now...

She had to ask Coran, even though she would rather pretend she didn’t have to, even though she wanted this to be some terrible dream. “How is he?”

“He’s in emergency surgery right now,” Coran said. Her stomach lurched. “One of the doctors wants to speak with you. I told her you would be arriving soon.”

His gaze drifted over her head and he beckoned someone behind her. “There she is now!”

Allura glanced at Keith and he gave her a nod of encouragement. So she wiped her eyes before turning to face the dark-haired woman approaching.

“Hi, Allura,” the doctor said, shaking her hand. “I’m Doctor Vasquez. Can you come with me to my office for a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” Her hands trembled as she followed the doctor down the hall. She was living her greatest fear--a future without her father. He had worked himself to death and now he was going to leave her all alone.

Doctor Vasquez closed the door behind them, then motioned for Allura to take a seat. “I wish I had better news for you, Allura, but I don’t. I’m not going to lie to you. Your father needs a quadruple bypass. There’s a very slim chance that he’s going to survive the surgery, but there is a chance.”

Her bottom lip quaked, and tears starting rolling down her cheeks again. “He’s lucky to have that chance. One of his coworkers—Zarkon, I believe—kept his heart beating until the ambulance arrived.”

Zarkon had saved him. She was so thankful that he had been in the office. Though she still despised his son, Zarkon had always been there for both her and her father.  

“But how did it even happen? Was it stress? He’s always been healthy.”

“Yes, the high stress he was dealing with was the likely trigger. Especially after this morning’s news...” Doctor Vasquez coughed, smartly leaving that topic behind. “Sometimes the signs are subtle.”

“Like what?”

“A change in personality, for example, is a sign of heart disease. He may have become moodier, sadder, or more irritable over the past month.”

“Oh.” The ignored text messages. The fight at the office. The silence afterwards.

He had been sick without even knowing it. And she had avoided and ignored him just to be spiteful. She had been so angry, so hurt, and it hadn’t really been his fault.

“Oh,” she said a second time, because she couldn’t manage to say anything else. Then she broke down, her sobs filling the cramped space.

“I didn’t know,” she bawled. “I didn’t even know.”

Doctor Vasquez passed her a box of tissues. “None of this is your fault, Allura. Our team is in the surgery room trying as hard as we can to keep him alive. We’re not giving up, and it’s not over yet.”

She walked over and placed a hand on Allura’s shoulder. “I have some patients I need to attend to. You can choose to stay here if you want some time alone, or you can go back to your friends.”

“I have to be with them.” Allura rose from her chair, taking the tissue box with her.

“Very well.” Doctor Vasquez walked Allura out of her office and back down the hall to the waiting room, where Keith and Coran stood together, talking with sombre expressions. “I’ll be sure to give you frequent updates.”

“Thank you," Allura told her. As soon as Keith and Coran saw her, they gave each other one last meaningful look, then Coran rushed her way.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, grabbing a tissue from the box and dabbing some of her tears away. “It’s not a good time, but it’s happening.”

“Then tell me.” What else could possibly be going wrong? She steeled herself and prepared for the worst.

“I just received a call from Vera. Zarkon’s buying up swaths of Voltron shares, and he’s triggered a poison pill. Current shareholders are able to buy new shares at a steep discount, but with the botched Balmera Gold acquisition, none of them are taking the offer, except for Zarkon. He’s called a shareholder’s meeting that will be taking place one hour from now.”

Her entire body was aflame with rage as she realized what he was planning. “Zarkon wants Voltron. He falsified the risk audit. He wants control, and he’s trying to take it while my father’s on his deathbed.”

“He was our _friend_ ,” she yelled. Never in her life had she been so angry. “ _How could he do this?_ ”

She didn't understand why Zarkon wanted Voltron for himself, but she didn't have to. He was trying to take advantage of her father's heart attack. She had no compassion for him anymore.

She willed her sadness away and buried it deep. She would be sad when Voltron was safe from Zarkon’s clutches. “Coran, call Vera. Tell her to use my trust fund to buy as much Voltron stock as she can, at a premium if necessary. Drain it to the last dollar.”

She blew her nose, then continued. “I know where my father’s will is. If he’s ever incapacitated or deceased, I get immediate control over his assets, including his Voltron shares. I’m the majority shareholder now, and I make company decisions. Sign your voting shares over to me by proxy, just for this meeting. I need to put on an unforgettable display.”

“Calling now,” Coran said, taking out his phone.

“I’ll be back,” she told Keith, dropping the tissue box on a chair and grabbing her purse.

Keith nodded. “If you need me to-.”

“I don’t _need_ you,” she spat. “I don’t _need anyone_.”

As soon as she said it, she felt wrong. Hurt made his face crumple, but she didn’t have any time to waste on an apology. She was stone. She had to be stone if she wanted to survive this.

 

~

 

At her house, she found the false drawer in her father’s desk and took out his will. She knew every line of every clause, but she never thought she would have to hold it in her hands so soon. Though her father wasn’t officially ruled incapacitated, under these circumstances his written instructions would apply. She photocopied the original, then stuck it back in the desk.

White blouse. Black suit jacket. Black, knee-length skirt. Nude tights. Black leather heels, not too high but not too short. Eye drops to clear the bloodshot whites of her eyes. Minimal makeup, but not makeup-free. Tight ballerina bun. A watch and diamond studs, but no other outstanding jewellery.

Her outfit dared anyone in the Voltron boardroom to find a flaw. They would try, but they would fail. She was impeccable, not just meeting their standards but surpassing them.

She hadn’t been notified of the shareholder’s meeting, so when she walked into the boardroom one minute before it started, everyone stopped talking. Without her, they would have been able to replace her father with Zarkon by compiling the power of their shares together. They had assumed she would be too overwrought with grief to bother making an appearance, but there she was, _bothering_.

Glass and metal made up the walls of the room, and a long, walnut table stretched through the middle. Some priceless artwork took up most of the wall to the left, and through the windows to the right, Altea sprawled out before her. From the high perch, she could even see the Central Hospital. She decided not to look a second time.

Zarkon approached her immediately. He was unnervingly composed. The shock of her appearance hadn’t even made him twitch one brow.

“Allura, is there any news about your father? I’m terribly sorry about his heart attack.”

“He’s alive,” she said. “Please take a seat.”

His mask slipped, and he frowned. So she told him again, “Take a seat.”

Automatically, he took a step towards the head of the table. “That’s my seat,” she said. “Take another one.”

“I called this meeting-.”

“It’s my meeting now.” She walked past him to stand in her place. Familiar faces stared back at her, and she passed a hard gaze over every single one of them. Almost all of them dipped their eyes to the table.

“My father is undergoing heart surgery as I speak,” she said. “When I left the hospital to come here, he was dying, and for all I know, he’s now dead. But for the purpose of this meeting, he will be considered incapacitated. As per his will, I am the sole beneficiary of every asset he owns. As per his will, I am the majority Voltron shareholder, and I will _always_ be the majority Voltron shareholder.”

“As the majority shareholder, I alone have the right to make decisions. As Alfor’s daughter, I will uphold his vision for this company. The contingency plan my father developed goes into place, starting now. Blaytz is his successor, and he will act as the temporary President and CEO until my father recovers. If he does not recover, then I intend to make Blaytz's position permanent, taking his performance into account.”

No one questioned her. “In regards to this Balmera Gold incident, I hope Voltron’s PR team is already starting to implement a solution. Furthermore to this, Voltron will be suing Galra Security for negligence. Their Balmera Gold risk audit was clearly poorly executed, and potentially fraudulent. We will be requesting a full audit on the processes undertaken by Galra Security by an independent third-party. Due to a potential conflict of interest, Zarkon will temporarily be removed as a Voltron board member while the audit is ongoing.”

Zarkon’s face had just begun to show signs of anger. “This meeting is over,” she stated. “If you will excuse me, I must return to the hospital.”

She left the room, and Zarkon caught her. He grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. “This is nothing personal, Allura. You have to believe me. It just happened at a bad time.”

“Thank you for helping my father today, but you are not welcome in this building.” She made sure to look him in the eye, and she no longer saw the warm kindness she had come to know. Instead, she saw ice.

And for one second, she almost wanted to cry. She wanted him to comfort her, like he had done so many times before. But those moments were broken. Everything between them was broken, and he had willingly done the breaking.

“Get out!” she yelled, giving in to the anger and despair tormenting her. “Just get out!”

Then she stood stock-still, blinking back tears as she watched him go.

 

~

 

When she returned to the hospital, only Coran was there. Her stomach dropped. “Where’s Keith?”

She scoured the waiting room, growing more and more desperate. “Where is he?”

“He left,” Coran said. “Took a cab and said he’d be back.”

The stone she had turned herself into shattered. She had been vile to him. If he hated her now, she wouldn’t blame him. “I didn’t mean it,” she bawled. “I do need him here. I do.”

Coran caught her in a hug just as she started crying. “You’re upset,” he said, consoling her. “Keith understands that.”

Even with the reassurance, she didn’t feel any better. “There’s been no news about your father,” Coran continued. “The surgery seems to be progressing, and that’s all we can hope for.”

“What if he dies?” she wailed, voicing her terror. She felt small, like a child again, not the powerful woman she had been in the boardroom. “What if he dies and the last time I ever saw him was when we were yelling at each other?”

She saw his face, and, as always, saw the disappointment. “He thought I hated him, but I didn’t. I never did. I love him.”

She started sobbing so hard she had to wait a couple of minutes to begin speaking again. “And I never got to tell him that for the last time. I never got to say goodbye.”

“He knew you loved him, Allura,” Coran said. “And he loved you, with his whole heart. A fight would never change that.”

“But it’s not fair!” she shrieked. “None of this is fair!” She still needed her father. She couldn’t imagine a world without him.  

“It’s not fair, and it will never be fair, but it’s life.” Coran hugged her tighter. “Sometimes people die, and sometimes you never get the chance to say goodbye, but that doesn’t mean you loved each other any less.”

He pulled back to give her a sad smile. “We both know Alfor’s a fighter. If anyone can get through this, it’s him. He’d take on the entire universe to stay with you, and he isn’t gone yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter took way longer to come out than I meant it to. I'm still aiming to finish this fic before S8. Thank you so much to everyone for sticking with me!


	20. You're Never Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krolia's name is staying Kelly in this, because I was close enough and I don't want to go back and change everything. The violence tag applies heavily to this chapter.

Keith should have noticed the garage was too quiet. The taxi dropped him off and he saw the faded blue walls, the sign, the cars, but he didn’t register that there was no one lingering outside the door on a smoke break, or that the familiar clanging and grinding sounds were missing. The whole street was empty—drenched in an eerie silence—but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to have the sense to be cautious.

 _I don’t need you_. He wasn’t mad at Allura for yelling at him. She had been upset, and she was completely justified in lashing out. Her father was dying. Her oldest family friend was trying to steal their company. He understood how grief could control you, could make you lose yourself when it sunk its claws in deep.

Losing his father had been the lowest point of his life. Even though he was only five, he had never felt more alone. Dwarfing that loneliness though, was the anger. He still remembered the bitterness he carried with him, the rage he took out on anyone and everyone, because if he didn’t let that storming rage out, it would eat away at him until he was sure he would never stop feeling hollow.  

_I don’t need you._ He knew better than to be hurt, but those four words still stung. Because no one had ever needed him, and she had _bludgeoned_ him with that truth. Allura certainly didn’t need him. She never would—he had accepted that from the moment she had driven her flashy Ferrari through the trash pile that was Fairbanks just to find him and thank him for helping her.   

So, he decided that it was for the best if he left to give her some space, but if Coran hadn’t been at the hospital, then he would have stayed. Coran was a nice man, and he cared about Allura deeply, and that was enough for Keith to like him.

Thace’s note had told him to come to the garage on Wednesday, so there he was. Whatever Thace wanted to talk about must have been important, or else he wouldn’t have left Keith that note. Maybe he wanted to chastise him about the 9-1-1 call and the blood stains Keith had left on the garage floor after he had been stabbed. He cringed as he remembered that he still hadn’t apologized.

When Keith pulled the door open, the entire garage was pitch-black. A muffled scream sounded from somewhere in front of him. His adrenaline kicked in, but before he could run, two hulking men waiting in the darkness on both sides of the door pounced on him, grabbing his arms and hauling him inside.

The door locked behind him, and his heart raced with fear. Trying to wriggle free, he smashed his heel against the shin of one man, earning a grunt and an iron fist to the stomach. Winded, he coughed and hacked, and was preparing another kick when the fluorescent lights flickered on.

Thace was bound to a chair in front of him, the rope circling his wrists and ankles tied painfully tight. A gag kept him speechless, though he never stopped trying to yell _something_ through the greasy cloth. His face was ripe with cuts and bruises, and his nose was swollen up to twice its size. Broken. His fingers were swollen too, and bent at odd angles. Broken with intent.

Keith wanted to scream, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Thace’s eyes were wide, telling him to be scared and smart. Nodding imperceptibly, Keith reassured him that he wouldn’t be trying anything reckless.

A man walked in from the kitchen, smiling grotesquely. A black eye patch covered one of his eyes, the surrounding flesh puckered with old scars. He was amazingly tall, and muscled like a bodybuilder, his skin covered in tattoos up to his neck. One purple tattoo stood out, though, drawing Keith’s gaze immediately—a dagger that ran along his inner bicep. A _blade_.

Sendak’s chilling smile only grew larger as he approached Keith. “So he wasn’t lying,” Sendak said, stopping in front of Keith and running his lone eye over Keith’s face, lingering on his every feature. “How fortunate.”

“What do you want?” Keith demanded. Sendak laughed, then his smile faded to a displeased frown.

“My old friends, Thace and Ulaz, neglected to tell me many things within what I consider an acceptable time frame,” Sendak said, taking a step back, clasping Thace’s shoulder, and squeezing so hard Thace whimpered through his gag.

“Where’s Ulaz?” Keith asked. If Thace was in such a horrible condition, Ulaz had to be the same, or _worse_.

“You won’t be seeing him again,” Sendak said nonchalantly. “Examples must be made.”

There was nothing in Sendak’s pupil as he spoke, nothing teeming, nothing _living_. It was cavernous, devoid of anything. The hushed whispers and blatant fear all made sense, now that he had looked into that eye himself.

Keith’s blood ran cold. He almost vomited, but swallowed back the bile. Ulaz was dead because Sendak wanted him dead. And Keith was pretty sure his body would be the next one chained to a cinderblock and tossed into the river.

“Fuck you,” he said. It was impossible to pretend he wasn’t angry. Ulaz had chosen to lead a different life. He had worked to put his past behind him, and he deserved better than to be killed by the psychotic leader of the Blades. Sendak scowled, but his sour expression soon turned to delight.  

“You _are_ her son,” Sendak stated. “I thought he was lying, but you do have her face. Her black hair. Her haunting, dark eyes. Her quick temper. My lovely Kelly kept many secrets from me, but you were her greatest one. I’m impressed, really. If I could see her now, I would tell her just how _impressed_ I am.”

He cracked his knuckles, and a shiver ran down Keith’s spine. A second shiver followed as Keith locked eyes with Thace again and realized why he was even there, restrained in a place where he had always been safe—Thace had told Sendak. He must have, because if he hadn’t, then he would be rotting in the current like Ulaz. He knew that Sendak was going to make Keith suffer if he found out, but Thace had betrayed him anyway.

He should have burned that damned note.

“What do you want with me?” Keith asked. The more Sendak spoke, the more unhinged he became. If Sendak was going to kill him, then Keith would rather know sooner than later.

“I want _you_ , Keith,” Sendak said. He stood chest-to-chest with Keith, towering over him as he stared down into Keith’s terrified eyes. “Kell left us too soon to rot in the bowels of Marmora, but she gave us you. And now we have you. And now we’re going to use you.”

“Use me for what?”

“You’re already a Blade. You survived the initiation, and we didn’t even know who we were initiating.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Now you’re going to starting working for us as my _personal_ mentee.”

“What kind of work?” Keith already knew what line of business the Blades were famous for—he had lived in Fairbanks long enough to know there was only one gang you bought drugs from—but the question was still worth asking.

“Dealer. Driver. Just to start.” Sendak sighed. “Your mother loved those jobs. I can still see her hair flowing behind her in the wind as she drove that motorcycle.”

“Fine,” Keith said. There was no room for him to refuse. “I’ll do it.”

“Happy to hear.” Sendak signalled the two thugs holding Keith. “He’s cooperating. Let him go.”

As soon as they released him, Keith lunged forward in a fit of impulsive, stupid anger. Sendak was forcing him into this, sending him down a path he swore he would never walk. His mom was a _thing_ to Sendak. And he thought even less of Keith.

With surprise on his side, he landed a hit on Sendak’s jaw before the giant man had time to react, but Sendak recovered quick, sending a punch right back into Keith’s ribs. Kicking one of Sendak’s legs out, Keith couldn’t twist to avoid Sendak’s grasping hand, and his meaty fingers caught Keith’s shirt as he fell. They tumbled to the floor in a flurry of growling and fists.

Sendak was strong, but Keith was able to slip out of his grasp more than once as they wrestled on the floor, bashing and kicking at each other. Finally, Sendak’s brute strength won out and he restrained Keith in a chokehold, crushing his windpipe and stealing the breath from his lungs.

Keith’s vision went black. He had bet that whatever aspirations Sendak had for him were worth more than the satisfaction he would feel if he killed Keith right then and there, and he was right. When Keith went limp, Sendak freed Keith’s neck and stood tall again. Dragging in air and clutching his throat, Keith pulled himself up to his feet a few seconds later and glared at Sendak.

Wiping off the blood leaking from his mouth, Sendak shook his head in amusement. “Only one person’s ever jumped me like that. It’s how I lost this.” He pointed to the empty socket hidden by his eye patch. “You can guess who it was.”

“My mom,” Keith said, wincing at how his jaw ached when he moved it. Sendak nodded.

“I love you because you’re her son,” he said, raking his eye over Keith’s face again. “I hate you because you should be mine. I want to kill you, actually, but I won’t do it yet. Because you’re hers, and I’ve heard you have many of her talents.”

“Your first job is next week.” He tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck. “A BLD delivery is coming in, and you’re going to pick it up for us. Do it well, and you’ll see some actual excitement.”

“Now, we’re heading to the bar.” Sendak threw an arm around Keith’s shoulder and started walking him to the door. “You’re coming with us.”

The rest of the Blades filed outside, then Keith heard Thace trying to speak, muffled frustrations filling the emptying space. The sound enraged him even more. What more could Thace have to say to him? He had done enough already.

“I’ll be right out,” Keith said, slipping under Sendak’s arm.

“You have one minute,” Sendak warned. Then he left, and Keith was alone with Thace. Keith yanked the gag down, not caring if the force hurt his damaged face.  

“Why did you tell him?” Keith yelled. “ _How_ could you tell him?”

“I didn’t,” Thace whispered. Keith narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to call Thace a liar. But before he could, a familiar voice echoed off the garage’s tin walls.

“Sorry, Keith.” The funny thing was he actually _did_ sound sorry. Kolivan rounded the corner, and pulled up his sleeve so Keith could see the tiny, purple dagger tattooed on his shoulder. “But once you’re in, you’re _never_ out.”

 

~

 

The bar was beside the Steel Plant. That alone was enough to make Keith sick. As he sat in a curved booth, Sendak’s proximity served to heighten his nausea. Surrounded by his elite circle, Sendak bragged about finding Kell’s kid to anyone who passed by. They all knew her, it seemed, and all of them scrutinized him with clear interest.

All the eyes were annoying. Sendak’s never-ending talking was annoying. The laughter and loud music and clinking glasses were annoying. Keith’s temper was already flaring, and he kept it down by glowering into his half-finished beer and keeping utterly silent.

He had been there for hours and hours, until the morning light had faded to an orange sunset. He couldn’t count how many people had come and gone while he sat on the booth’s cracked leather, unmoving, trying to stay numb to everyone surrounding him.

Kolivan hadn’t joined them, which was for the best. If he had, Keith would have happily started another fight, and he might have been punished for a second transgression. At the garage, Kolivan had only said four more words to him: “ _Monday. 11:30 a.m. Marmora.”_

The visit to see his mom. _Of course_ it would be the same day as his first drug deal. He hadn’t forgotten, but he didn’t trust Kolivan anymore. He had almost decided not to go, right then and there, but the memory of the remorse in Kolivan’s voice made him stop. Even if there was a chance Kolivan was lying about the visit, there was still a chance that he wasn’t. He might never be able to meet his mom again if he didn’t go on Monday, so he was willing to take the risk.  

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw a short, unfamiliar man dressed in a business suit saunter through the door and nod to Sendak. “Go play with the other kids for a bit,” Sendak said, nudging Keith.

With a grunt, Keith obeyed, leaving his beer behind and trudging over to a table filled with teenage guys around his age. Keith recognized most of their faces from his stay in Fairbanks, but he didn’t know their names, and didn’t bother striking up a conversation. Instead, he ignored their greetings and sat in silence again, head down once again.

They were fucking annoying. Yelling at the waitresses and sloshing beer all over the table, and laughing, always laughing so loud, right next to his ears. When one of them knocked his shoulder to get him to join in, he told him to fuck off.

“You’re a fun fucking person, aren’t you?” the guy to his left said. Keith didn’t respond.

The guy in front of him waved his hand under Keith’s face, a white pill on his palm. “Here, take this. Then you’ll start enjoying yourself.”

“No.” Keith clenched his fists hard and closed his eyes, but the guy tapped his chin.

“Take it,” the guy whined. “Don’t be so boring.”

“No,” Keith said, for the second time. The rage curled and twisted, filling every corner of his mind until he was consumed. He wouldn’t speak his refusal a third time.  

“C’mon,” the guy said. He slapped the side of Keith’s head, hard enough that Keith’s ear started ringing. “Tak-.”

In one, smooth movement, Keith dragged him out of the booth and smashed his fist into the guy’s shocked face. He fell to the ground, and Keith knelt on top of him, grabbing his shirt collar and pounding his face until he heard the crack of bone as his nose broke.

Blood streamed from the guy’s nostrils, but Keith punched again and again. His fist was red, the guy’s face was red, and he would have continued had he not heard Sendak boasting.  

“I told you,” Sendak said. “That boy’s Calamity Kell through and through. He’s her _real_ legacy.”

Keith froze, his fist in the air, trembling now. Trembling as the anger disappeared and he saw the guy beneath him crying. “I’m sorry,” Keith croaked. “I just...”

He leapt up to his feet and ran for the bathroom, locking himself in and scrubbing his hand clean. Blood washed down the sink. He kept his hand under the blistering stream of hot water, only turning the tap off when the pain became unbearable.

Then he stared at himself in the mirror. But the face looking back at him wasn’t _his_ anymore. His eyes didn’t belong to him. His mouth, his nose, the cut of his jaw. None of it was _his_.

It was _hers_.

His fist met the glass, and the mirror shattered. He hissed in pain when he stretched his hand open and felt the shards embedded in his knuckles. Carefully, he picked them out one-by-one and dropped them in the garbage can.

All of his anger was gone when he stepped out of the bathroom. The guy’s face was clean again, if a little blotchy, and he was laughing the same annoying laugh as the rest of them, though they went silent and nodded in respect as Keith passed their table. Sendak’s eye pierced Keith as he left the bar without an acknowledgement, but he didn’t care.

He took his time getting to Fairbanks. It was late at night when he finally arrived at his old alley. Someone had taken his old dumpster though, so he kept on walking until he found another one. Curling up against the side, he tucked his head into his knees and tried to calm his chaotic thoughts.

Allura wouldn’t want to see him like this. _He_ didn’t want her to see him like this. A jagged hole had been torn into his chest, and nothing could stich it up. Not the memory of his father. Not the memory of playing tag with Shiro and the other kids for the first time. Not even the memory of the first time he had kissed Allura, how fierce she had been, how high he had felt as she kissed him back.

His yearning for her made his heart ache. Her father could be dead by now. It could have happened hours ago, and he might not have been there for her. It might happen sometime tonight, and he would be in Fairbanks, whining about his own problems instead of trying to help her through hers.

He left the dumpster behind. He left Fairbanks behind. He didn’t bother looking back.

Come Monday, he could feel sorry for himself. Today, and tomorrow, and the few days after, he was going to be there for Allura, like she had always been there for him. Then on Monday, before the drug deal, he was going to leave, because he was a Blade, and the Blades were the last people she should ever be caught up with.

He had tried to go before, because he thought she would be better off without him. But this time, he _knew_ she would be. And this time, nothing could convince him to stay. 

The hospital lights were still bright, but Coran was sprawled out across one of the waiting room couches, snoring softly. Allura was sleeping on a row of three chairs, her body folded so that she could fit, hugging herself to keep warm. Still, her arms were covered with goosebumps, so he took his jacket off and laid it over her gently, succeeding in not waking her up. Then he sat on the chair beside her head and watched over her as the night wore on, listening to her even breaths and sending up a prayer to any god listening that Alfor would make it through the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
